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THE  PERSISTENT  PROBLEMS 
OF  PHILOSOPHY 


THE  PERSISTENT  PROBLEMS 
OF  PHILOSOPHY 


AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  METAPHYSICS 
THROUGH  THE  STUDY  OF 
MODERN  SYSTEMS 

BY 

MARY  WHITON  CALKINS 


PROFESSOR  OF  PHILOSOPHY  AND  PSYCHOLOGY  IN  WELLESLEY  COLLEGE 
AUTHOR  OF  “AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  PSYCHOLOGY,”  “ DER 
DOPPELTE  STANDPUNKT  IN  DER  PSYCHOLOGIE  ” 

“A  FIRST  BOOK  IN  PSYCHOLOGY  ” 


THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 


FOURTH  REVISED  EDITION. 


LONDON:  MACMILLAN  & CO.,  Ltd, 

1923 


All  rights  reserved 


Copyright,  1907  and  1917, 

By  THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY. 


Set  up  and  electrotyped.  Published  March,  1907. 


NortoooS  Press 

J.  S.  Cushing  Co.  — Berwick  & Smith  Co. 
Norwood,  Mass.,  U.S.A. 


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PERFECI  AUCTORIBUS  FILIA  AMANT1SSIMA  HUNC 
LIBRUM  DEDICAVI 


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PREFACE 


I must  admit  at  the  outset  that  this  book  is  not  written 
to  lure  students,  guiltless  of  metaphysical  aspirations,  into 
pleasant  paths  of  philosophical  speculation.  It  is  intended 
rather  for  students  and  readers  who  are  seriously  concerned 
with  the  problems  of  philosophy  and  genuinely  anxious  to 
study  metaphysics  under  the  guidance  of  the  great  thinkers. 
The  book  is,  none  the  less,  designed  for  beginners  in 
philosophy,  as  well  as  for  those  more  advanced,  and  I 
have  tried  to  make  it  clear  in  statement  and  logical  in 
order.  I have  audaciously  attempted  to  combine,  also, 
what  seem  to  me  the  essential  features  of  a systematic 
Introduction  to  Metaphysics  with  those  of  a History  of 
Modern  Philosophy.  This  I have  done  both  because  I 
believe  that  the  problems  of  philosophy  are,  at  the  outset, 
best  studied  as  formulated  in  the  actual  systems  of  great 
thinkers,  and  because  the  historical  sequence  of  philoso- 
phies, from  Descartes’s  to  Hegel’s,  seems  to  coincide, 
roughly,  with  a logical  order. 

I am  well  aware  that  in  writing  a book  which  seeks  to 
combine  two  functions,  often  distinguished,  and  which 
attempts  to  meet  the  needs  of  two  groups  of  students,  I 
have  run  the  risk  of  fulfilling  neither  purpose  and  of  help- 
ing neither  set  of  readers.  I hope,  however,  that  certain 
features  of  the  book  may  prove  useful ; in  particular,  the 
plan  on  which  it  classifies  metaphysical  systems,  the  sum- 
maries it  offers  as  well  of  the  arguments  as  of  the  conclu- 
sions of  modern  philosophers,  the  exact  quotations  and 
multiplied  text  references  of  its  expositions.  If  I have 
overloaded  the  book  with  quotations  and  references,  it  is 
because  I have  myself  suffered  greatly  from  my  inability 
to  find  in  the  writings  of  the  philosophers  the  doctrines 
attributed  to  them  by  the  commentators.  I shall  be  much 

vii 


viii  Preface 

disappointed  if  these  citations  do  not  whet  the  appetite  of 
the  reader  and  send  him  directly  to  the  texts  of  Descartes, 
Leibniz,  Berkeley,  and  the  rest.  I cannot,  indeed,  too 
emphatically  express  my  sense  of  the  value  of  a study  of 
texts,  and  my  conviction  that  this  Introduction,  and  any 
other,  should  be  used  to  supplement  and  not  to  supplant 
a reading  of  the  philosophers.  The  advanced  student  will, 
I trust,  be  aided  in  such  text  study  by  the  relative  abun- 
dance of  bibliographical  and  critical  material.  In  the 
main,  this  has  been  relegated,  with  the  biographies,  to  the 
Appendix  of  the  book,  that  the  continuity  of  metaphysical 
discussion  may  not  be  broken. 

It  is  only  fair  to  point  out,  finally,  that  the  book,  though 
mainly  exposition  and  criticism,  is  written  from  the  stand- 
point of  a metaphysical  theory  fairly  well  defined.  This 
I have  indicated  in  my  last  chapter.  My  philosophical 
predilections  have  inevitably  colored  my  criticisms;  but  I 
trust  that  they  have  not  distorted  my  interpretation  of  the 
thought  of  the  philosophers  whom  I have  considered,  and 
that  the  book  may,  therefore,  be  of  service  to  those  who 
do  not  agree  with  its  estimates  or  with  its  conclusions. 

The  succeeding  chapters  disclose  the  nature  and  extent 
of  my  chief  intellectual  obligations.  But  I cannot  deny 
myself  the  pleasure  of  acknowledging  my  personal  indebt- 
edness to  my  first  instructor  in  philosophy,  Professor 
H.  N.  Gardiner,  to  my  constant  counseller,  Professor 
George  H.  Palmer,  and  to  the  teacher  of  my  more  recent 
student  years,  Professor  Josiah  Royce.  For  generous  and 
invaluable  help  in  the  preparation  of  this  book,  I am  grate- 
ful, beyond  my  power  of  expression,  to  my  colleague, 
Professor  Mary  S.  Case,  who  has  read  the  book  in  manu- 
script and  has  criticised  it  in  detail,  to  its  great  advantage ; 
to  my  father,  who  has  read  all  the  proofs ; and  to  my 
friend  and  pupil,  Helen  G.  Hood,  who  has  verified  the 
citations  and  references  of  footnotes  and  Appendix,  and 
has  prepared  the  Index. 

MARY  WHITON  CALKINS. 

January,  1907. 


PREFACE  TO  THE  SECOND  EDITION 


It  has  been  necessary  to  make  ready  the  second  edition  of 
this  book  at  a few  days’  notice ; but  I have  tried,  in  spite  of 
haste,  to  profit  by  the  counsels  of  my  critics.  I am  under 
special  obligation  to  Professor  Ellen  B.  Talbot  of  Mount 
Holyoke  College,  for  supplementing  a published  review  by 
written  suggestions.  The  greater  number  of  the  changes 
which  I have  made  affect  my  discussions  of  Hume’s  doctrine 
of  causality  and  of  Kant’s  doctrine  of  the  categories.  I have 
altered  my  statement  of  the  concept  of  causality,  in  conform- 
ity with  Rickert’s  teaching,  by  distinguishing  (pp.  155,  161, 
162,  et  al.;  213  seq.)  between  causal  and  natural  law;  I 
have  explicitly  attributed  to  Kant  (p.  225)  the  conception  of 
epistemological  in  addition  to  that  of  logical  necessity ; and 
I have  corrected  the  passages  (pp.  205  seq.  and  221)  in  which 
I had  carelessly  identified  universality  and  necessity.  There 
may  come  a later  opportunity  for  more  detailed  discussion  of 
this  whole  subject  through  a section  added  to  the  Appendix. 
None  of  these  changes  involve,  in  my  opinion,  a revision  of 
my  general  estimate  and  interpretation  of  Kant’s  teaching. 
To  this  estimate,  with  all  respect  to  the  views  of  my  con- 
servatively Kantian  critics,  I still  adhere. 

Changes  of  statement  which  involve  no  important  alter- 
ation of  doctrine  are  the  attempt  (p.  10)  to  include  Kant, 
Fichte,  and  Schelling  in  my  Table  of  Modern  Philosophers ; 
the  modified  exposition  (p.  29)  and  the  reformulated  criticism 
(pp.  48-49)  of  one  of  Descartes’s  arguments ; the  reference, 
on  p.  hi,  to  Spinoza;  the  specific  assertion  (p.  351,  footnote) 
that  my  interpretation  of  Schopenhauer  diverges  from  that 
which  is  usual;  and,  finally,  the  restatement  (pp.  408-409) 


IX 


X 


Preface 


of  the  conception  of  self,  and  the  comparison  of  this  doctrine 
with  that  of  ‘ spiritual  substance.’  I take  this  opportunity 
to  refer  readers,  who  are  interested  in  the  discussion  of  the 
nature  of  the  self,  to  my  papers  in  the  Journal  of  Philosophy 
for  January  30  and  for  February  27,  1908,  and  in  the  Philo- 
sophical Review  for  May,  1908. 

The  remaining  changes  in  the  body  of  the  book  are  merely 
verbal  corrections.  Additions  to  the  Bibliography  are  made 
on  pp.  506,  556,  and  558.  The  paging  of  the  first  edition 
is  retained. 

M.  w.  c. 

February,  1908. 


PREFACE  TO  THE  THIRD  EDITION 

The  present  revision  of  this  book  has  been  undertaken 
primarily  in  order  to  relate  its  conclusions  to  the  more 
recent  of  contemporary  philosophical  writings  and,  in  par- 
ticular, to  refer  to  the  arguments  against  idealism  so 
loudly  urged  by  the  writers  who  call  themselves  ‘neo- 
realists.’ Advantage  has  also  been  taken  of  the  oppor- 
tunity to  amend  and  to  supplement  many  passages  of  the 
book. 

In  more  detail,  the  important  additions  are  the  follow- 
ing : a summary  (pp.  42-43)  of  Descartes’s  philosophy  of 
nature ; a reference  (p.  185,  note)  to  modern  forms  of  the 
Humian  doctrine  of  the  self ; a statement  (pp.  399-400)  of 
W.  P.  Montague’s  conception  of  consciousness  as  potential 
energy;  a section  (pp.  402-404)  on  contemporary  neo- 
realism ; a brief  statement  (pp.  409-410)  of  the  bearing  of 
the  facts  of  so-called  multiple  personality  on  the  doctrine 
of  the  unity  of  the  self ; a summary  (p.  420,  note)  of 
Russell’s  argument  in  opposition  to  absolutism  ; an  indica- 
tion (p.  441)  of  the  points  of  contact  between  Bergson’s 
conception  of  time  and  that  of  absolutistic  personalism; 


Preface 


xi 


and  additions  to  the  Bibliography  (pp.  557-559  et  al.,  and 
Supplement,  pp.  564-566).  The  principal  changes  are  cor- 
rections (pp.  45,  52,  53)  of  my  earlier  formulations  of 
Descartes’s  criterion  of  certainty  and  of  portions  of  his 
arguments  for  the  existence  of  God ; a correction  (pp.  62- 
63)  of  my  former  summary  of  Hobbes’s  argument  for 
materialism ; a restatement,  without  essential  change  (pp. 
122,  130),  of  part  of  Berkeley’s  argument ; a more  spiritual- 
istic interpretation  (pp.  339-342)  of  Schelling’s  identity 
philosophy;  and  a re-writing  (pp.  429,  449,  451-452)  of 
certain  passages  in  the  discussion  concerning  absolute  will 
and  human  freedom.  Minor  changes  occur  on  pages  9,  10, 
69,  99,  163,  216,  237,  331,  336,  337,  407,  424,  428,  447,  485, 
492,  494,  500,  515  f.,  523  note,  525  note,  546,  555  note, 
556.  Certain  sentences  and  paragraphs  of  the  earlier  edi- 
tions have  been  omitted,  so  that  the  paging  is,  in  the  main, 
undisturbed. 

Especial  attention  is  called,  in  conclusion,  to  two  points 
of  terminology : (1)  to  the  useful,  and  neglected,  distinction 
between  ‘qualitatively’  and  ‘numerically’  pluralistic  or 
monistic  systems,  and  (2)  to  the  use,  throughout  the 
book,  of  the  term  ‘idealism’  in  the  widest  possible  sense 
to  mean  ‘the  conception  of  reality  as  of  the  nature  of 
consciousness.’  The  present-day  tendency  to  identify 
idealism  either  with  ideism  or  with  subjective  idealism 
is  much  to  be  regretted;  for  there  is  no  other  term  by 
which  to  cover  both  ideism  (the  Humian  doctrine  that 
reality  reduces  to  momentary  states  of  consciousness)  and 
spiritualism  (or  personalism) , the  doctrine  that  the  universe 
is  throughout  personal.  In  this  wider  use,  the  term  ideal- 
ism applies  not  only  to  ideism  and  to  subjective  idealism 
— the  form  of  spiritualism  which  teaches  that  the  universe 
narrows  to  my  consciousness  — but  also  to  the  other  forms 
of  spiritualism ; to  pluralistic  spiritualism,  the  doctrine  of 
Leibniz  and  Berkeley  and  Ward,  and  to  absolutistic  spir- 


Xll 


Preface 


itualism,  the  doctrine  of  Hegel,  of  Royce,  of  Bosanquet, 
which  the  last  chapter  of  this  book  expounds  and  upholds. 

m.  w.  c. 

July,  1912. 


PREFACE  TO  THE  FOURTH  EDITION 

The  issue  of  a fourth  edition  of  this  book  gives  oppor- 
tunity for  a few  changes.  The  description  of  the  self  (p. 
408)  and  the  discussion  of  freedom  (pp.  451-453)  have  been 
re-written.  Bibliographical  references  have  been  added 
to  the  footnotes  of  pages  404,  408,  410,  425,  447.  Other 
changes  are  made  on  pages  65,  205,  224,  237,  244,  351, 
4°4,  5*7,  518,  557. 

M.  W.  C. 

December,  1916. 


CONTENTS 


INTRODUCTION 

CHAPTER  I 

THE  NATURE,  TYPES,  AND  VALUE  OF  PHILOSOPHY 

PAGB 


I.  The  Nature  of  Philosophy 

Distinguished  from  everyday  consciousness  ....  3 

Distinguished  from  art 3 

> Distinguished  from  natural  science  ......  3 

II.  The  Approach  to  Philosophy 

The  scientific  point  of  departure 6 

The  study  of  texts 8 

III.  The  Types  of  Philosophy 

Qualitative  pluralism  or  qualitative  monism  ....  9 

Numerical  pluralism  or  numerical  monism  ....  9 

Idealism  or  non-idealism 10 

IV.  The  Value  of  Philosophy 12 


SYSTEMS  OF  NUMERICAL  PLURALISM 

CHAPTER  II 

PLURALISTIC  DUALISM:  THE  SYSTEM  OF  DESCARTES 


I.  Introduction:  The  Beginnings  of  Modern  Philosophy  . 17 

II.  The  Philosophical  System  of  Descartes 

a.  The  preparation  for  philosophy : universal  doubt  . . 21 

b.  The  implication  of  doubt : my  own  existence  ...  23 

c.  The  inference  from  my  own  existence : the  existence  of  God  25 

Ontological  arguments  for  the  existence  of  God : — 

God  must  exist,  for 

ac— t have  a clear  and  distinct  consciousness  of  him  . 26 

The  idea  of  perfection  involves  that  of  existence  . 26 

xiii 


XIV 


Contents 


FAGB 

Causal  arguments  for  the  existence  of  God : — 

God  must  exist  as  cause 

Of  the  idea  of  God  within  me 28 

Of  me 30 

d.  The  inference  from  the  existence  of  God : the  existence  of 

corporeal  bodies  and  of  finite  selves  ...  34 

e.  Descartes’s  summary  of  his  teaching : the  substance  doctrine  39 

One  absolutely  independent  substance,  God  ...  40 

Created  substances  of  two  sorts,  minds  and  bodies,  each 

independent  of  every  other  created  substance  . 40 

III.  Critical  Estimate  of  Descartes’s  System 

a.  The  adequate  basis  of  Descartes’s  system : my  own  existence  43 

b.  Descartes’s  inadequate  arguments  for  God’s  existence 

Criticism  of  the  ontological  arguments : — 

Clear  conception  is  no  test  of  existence  ...  44 

Conceived  existence  does  not  necessarily  imply  actual 


existence 46 

Criticism  of  the  causal  arguments:  — 

Descartes  does  not  prove  that  the  cause  of  the  idea  of 

God  must  resemble  that  idea 48 

Descartes  confuses  the  conception  of  ultimate  cause 

with  that  of  first  cause 50 


t.  Descartes’s  inadequate  arguments  to  prove  the  existence  of 
any  corporeal  reality.  Criticism  : — 

1.  The  proof  falls  with  that  of  God’s  existence  . . 52 

2.  The  proof  from  God’s  veracity  is  inconsistent  . . 53 

d.  Descartes’s  inadequate  dualism  : — 

The  doctrine  of  the  independence  of  substances  is  incon- 
sistent with  that  of  the  influence  of  spirits  and  bodies 
on  each  other • 54 

CHAPTER  III 

PLURALISTIC  MATERIALISM:  THE  SYSTEM  OF  HOBBES 

I.  The  Materialistic  Doctrine  of  Hobbes  ....  56 

a.  Preliminary  outline  : The  universe  is  an  aggregate  of  bodies, 
including : — 

God,  the  First  Mover  .......  58 

Finite  spirits 58 

Corporeal  bodies  recognized  as  such  ....  58 

Note : The  commonwealth  as  civil  body  . . . 59 


Contents  xv 

PAGE 

b.  The  doctrine  of  Hobbes  concerning  the  nature  of  bodies  : 

They  are : — 

Independent  of  consciousness 60 

Spatial  ..........  60 

c.  The  argument  of  Hobbes : — 

Bodies  (the  non-conscious)  are  ultimately  real,  for  con- 
sciousness is  fundamentally  unreal,  since : — 

Illusions  and  sense-images  are  indistinguishable  . . 62 

Ideas  vary  with  the  individuals  who  have  them  . . 63 

Precisely  similar  ideas  may  arise  from  different  causes  63 

Consciousness,  because  caused  by  motion,  is  a form  of 


motion  .........  63 

II.  Critical  Estimate  of  the  Doctrine  of  Hobbes 

The  untrustworthiness  of  consciousness  does  not  prove  its 

unreality 65 

The  alleged  fact  that  motion  is  cause  of  consciousness  would  not 

prove  that  consciousness  is  identical  with  motion  . 65 

Hobbes’s  conception  of  body  is  inconsistently  idealistic  . . 66 

Materialists  after  Hobbes 69 


CHAPTER  IV 

PLURALISTIC  SPIRITUALISM:  THE  SYSTEM  OF  LEIBNIZ 

I.  The  System  of  Leibniz 74 

a.  The  argument  for  the  doctrine  that  the  universe  consists  of 


immaterial  monads 75 

b.  The  doctrine  of  the  classes  of  monads  and  their  nature  : — 

1.  The  supreme  monad,  God 79 

2.  The  finite  monads 80 

(a)  The  characters  common  to  all  finite  monads : — 

1.  Every  monad  depends  on  God  . . 81 

2.  Every  monad  is  active  . . . .81 

3.  Every  monad  is  absolutely  separate  from 

every  other 82 

4.  Every  monad  is  a unity  of  its  own  states  84 

5.  Every  monad  mirrors  or  expresses  all 

reality 85 


6.  Every  monad  has  been  predetermined  by 
God  to  be  in  harmony  with  every  other 


87 


XVI 


Contents 


FAGS 

( 'b ) The  classes  of  finite  monads : — 

1.  The  rational  monads:  conscious  moral 

selves go 

2.  The  sentient  monads  : irrational  souls  . 92 

3.  The  simple  monads  ....  93 

II.  Critical  Estimate  of  the  System  of  Leibniz  ...  96 

a.  Estimate  of  the  doctrine  concerning  the  nature  of  reality : — 

Leibniz’s  doctrine  of  reality  as  immaterial  is  sound,  but 

is  not  adequately  supported 98 

Leibniz’s  doctrine  of  the  ultimate  multiplicity  of  reality 

is  without  sufficient  basis 99 

b.  Estimate  of  the  doctrine  concerning  God : — 

Of  Leibniz’s  arguments  for  the  existence  of  God, 

The  ontological  argument  wrongly  infers  actual  neces- 
sary existence  from  possible  necessary  existence  . 100 

The  causal  argument  does  not  reconcile  the  teaching 


that  God  is  outside  the  series  of  the  finite  with  the 
teaching  that  God  is  ‘ sufficient  reason  ’ of  the  finite  102 
Leibniz’s  attempt  to  reconcile  God’s  goodness  with  the 

existence  of  evil  is  unsuccessful  ....  105 

c.  Estimate  of  the  doctrine  of  the  finite  monads : — 

Those  characters  of  the  finite  monads  which  demand  the 

existence  of  God  are  unproved  ....  107 

The  activity,  internal  unity,  harmoniousness,  and  relative 
isolation  of  the  finite  monads  are  satisfactorily 
argued 107 


CHAPTER  V 

PLURALISTIC  SPIRITUALISM  ( Continued ):  THE  SYSTEM 
OF  BERKELEY 

I.  Berkeley’s  Doctrine  of  the  Reality  of  the  Immediately 

Known:  Myself  and  my  Ideas  . . .113 

II.  Berkeley’s  Negative  Doctrine:  The  Disproof  of  the  Ex- 
istence of  Matter  (Non-ideal  Reality)  . 117 
Matter  does  not  exist,  whether  conceived  as 

a.  Immediately  perceived  objects  (non-ideal  and  indepen- 
dent of  consciousness),  for  these  are  complexes  of 
ideal  qualities 1 18 


Contents 


XVII 


PAGE 

b.  Inferred  non-ideal  and  independent  reality,  for  this  would 


be  either : — 

Known  to  be  like  sense-ideas,  but  so  ideal;  (or)  . .126 

Not  known  to  be  like  sense-ideas,  but,  in  this  case, 
either 

Cause  of  sense-ideas,  and  so  related  to  the  ideal;  (or)  128 
Mere  unknown  reality,  and  so  mere  nothing  . .130 

III.  Berkeley’s  Positive  Doctrine  of  Inferred  Reality 

a.  The  creative  spirit,  God,  is  known  to  exist  as  cause  of  sen- 

sible ideas 134 

b.  Other  created  spirits  are  known  to  exist  through  the  ideas 

by  them  excited  in  us  . . . . .138 


c.  The  world  of  nature  is  a series  of  sensations  imprinted  on 

our  minds  by  God 1 39 

IV.  Critical  Estimate  of  Berkeley’s  System 

a.  Of  Berkeley’s  doctrine  concerning  God  : — 

Berkeley  proves  at  most  the  existence  of  a greater-than- 


human  spirit 14 1 

Berkeley  does  not  prove  the  creativeness  of  God  . . 143 

b.  Of  Berkeley’s  doctrine  of  knowledge : — 

Berkeley’s  conception  of  knowledge  as  copy  of  reality 

would  make  knowledge  impossible  . . . 145 


CHAPTER  VI 

PLURALISTIC  PHENOMENALISTIC  IDEALISM:  THE 
SYSTEM  OF  HUME 

I.  The  Foundation  Principles  of  Hume’s  Metaphysics 

a.  The  derivation  of  idea  from  impression  .... 

(Estimate  : The  doctrine  is  untrue  to  Hume’s  own  analy- 
sis of  consciousness.) 

b.  The  doctrine  of  causality 

1.  The  conception  of  causality  as  a customary,  not  a 

necessary,  connection  ...... 

(Estimate : Hume  disproves  the  necessity  of  causal  se- 
quence, but  not  the  necessity  of  temporal  sequence.) 

2.  The  conception  of  power  as  a determination  of  the 

mind 

(Estimate : Hume’s  conclusion  is  correct,  but  he  does 
not  sufficiently  distinguish  causality  from  other  rela- 
tions.) 


*5° 

IS3 

!S5 

163 


xviii  Contents 

PAGE 

II.  Hume’s  Doctrine  of  External  Objects  independent  of 
the  Mind 

a.  The  teaching  that  external  objects  cannot  be  known  by  the 

senses 171 

b.  The  teaching  that  external  objects  cannot  be  known  by 

reason 173 

(Estimate  of  these  teachings:  Both  are  justified.) 

c.  The  inconsistent  assumption  that  external  objects  exist  . 176 

III.  Hume’s  Doctrine  of  Self 

a.  The  arguments  against  the  existence  of  any  self : — 

There  is  no  need  of  a subject  in  which  perceptions  may 


inhere  . . . . . . . . .179 

There  is  no  consciousness  of  self 180 


(Estimate : Both  arguments  are  refuted  by  introspection, 
and  Hume  is  himself  untrue  to  them.) 
b.  The  inconsistent  assumption  that  a self  exists  . . .186 

IV.  Hume’s  Teaching  about  God 

Hume  cannot  prove,  but  often  inconsistently  assumes,  the  exist- 
ence of  God  ........  190 

A CRITICISM  OF  PRECEDING  SYSTEMS 
CHAPTER  YII 

AN  ATTACK  UPON  DUALISM  AND  PHENOMENALISM: 

THE  CRITICAL  PHILOSOPHY  OF  KANT 


A.  Kant's  Doctrine  of  the  Known  Object  ( A Refutation  of 
Wolff’s  Dualism  and  of  Hume's  Phenomenalism) 

I.  Kant’s  Doctrine  of  the  Known  Object  as  Spatial  and 

Temporal 198 

a.  The  teaching,  in  opposition  to  Hume,  that  space  and  time 

are  unsensational  and  a priori  ....  200 

b.  The  teaching,  in  opposition  to  Wolff,  that  space  and  time 

are  subjective  .......  202 


II.  Kant’s  Doctrine  of  the  Categories  (the  Relations  of 
Known  Objects) 

a.  The  teaching,  in  opposition  to  Hume,  that  the  known  object 

includes  categories,  necessary  relations  . . . 204 

I.  The  category  of  totality 207 


Contents 


xix 


PAGE 

2.  The  category  of  degree  (implied  in  the  discussion  of 


reality) 208 

3.  The  category  of  (phenomenal)  causality  . . . 210 

4.  The  category  of  reciprocal  connection  . . .217 

b.  Kant’s  teaching,  in  opposition  to  Wolff,  that  the  categories 

are  subjective 218 

c.  Criticism  of  Kant’s  doctrine  of  the  necessity  of  the  cate- 

gories : — 

Kant  proves  no  more  than  logical  necessity  . . . 220 


B.  Kant's  Doctrine  of  Self  and  of  Objects  as  related  to  Self 
(In  opposition  to  Hume') 


Self  . \ . 

ilf : Coqpeived  as : — 


The  Argument  for  the  Existence  of  Self 
Relations  require  a self  as  relater 
The  Doctrine  of  the  Nature  of  Self 

a.  Transcendental  and  empirical  self : 

1.  Identical  and  momentary  self  .... 

2.  Thinking  and  sensationally  conscious  self  . 

3.  Universal  and  particular  self  .... 
(The  universal  self  is  inferred  from  the  existence 

objects  outside  me.) 

b.  Subject  self  and  object  self 


of 


226 

229 

230 

230 

231 


234 


C.  Kant's  Negative  Doctrine  that  Ultimate  Reality  is  Unknown 


I.  The  Doctrine  of  Things-in-themselves  as  Unknown  . . 236 

(Comment : Kant  does  not  prove  the  existence  of  things-in- 
themselves.) 

II.  The  Doctrine  of  the  Real  Self  as  Unknown  . . . 241 

Arguments : — 

We  have  no  sensational  consciousness  and,  therefore,  no 

knowledge  of  a self.  (Criticism)  ....  243 

A self  cannot  be  both  subject  and  object.  (Criticism)  . . 244 

III.  The  Doctrine  of  God  as  Unknown 
Refutation  of : — 

The  ontological  argument 247 

The  cosmological  argument  .......  248 

The  physico-theological  argument 250 


D.  Kant's  Correction  of  his  Negative  Doctrine 

I.  The  Admission  that  Things-in-themselves  might  be  Known 

(the  Hypothesis  of  the  Noumenon)  . . 254 


XX 


Contents 


FAGB 

II.  The  Admission  that  the  Real  Self  is  Known 

a.  The  teaching  that  I am  conscious  of  the  real  (or  transcen- 

dental) self 255 

b.  The  teaching  that  I know  my  moral  self  as  real  . . . 256 

c.  The  teaching  that  the  moral  self  must  be  member  of  a 

society  of  free,  blessed,  and  immortal  selves  . . 262 

1.  The  freedom  of  the  selves 265 

2.  The  immortality  of  the  selves 266 

3.  The  blessedness  of  the  selves 267 

(Criticism  of  Kant’s  attempt  to  prove  immortality  and  blessed- 
ness.) 

III.  The  Teaching  that  God  must  exist  to  assure  the  Exist- 
ence of  the  Highest  Good  ....  269 
(Criticism : Kant  has  not  proved  the  existence  of  the  highest 
good.) 


SYSTEMS  OF  NUMERICAL  MONISM 

CHAPTER  VIII 

MONISTIC  PLURALISM:  THE  SYSTEM  OF  SPINOZA 

L The  Doctrine  of  the  One  Substance,  God 
a.  Exposition : — 

1.  Substance  as  totality  of  reality 282 

2.  Substance  as  manifested  in  the  modes,  not  the  mere 

sum  of  the  modes 286 

3.  Substance  as  constituted  by  the  attributes:  God  as 

thinking  and  extended  being  .....  288 

4.  Critical  estimate  of  Spinoza’s  doctrine  of  substance : — 

1.  The  inadequacy  of  Spinoza’s  argument  for  the  exist- 

ence of  substance  (God)  conceived  as  absolute  . 293 

2.  The  inconsistency  of  Spinoza’s  doctrine  of  the  many 

attributes  of  substance : — 

The  plurality  of  the  attributes  is  inconsistent  with 

the  oneness  of  God 294 

The  infiniteness  of  the  number  of  attributes  is 
not  established 295 

3.  The  inconsistency  of  Spinoza’s  conception  of  God’s 

consciousness  as  radically  different  from  the  human 
consciousness 297 


Contents 


xx  i 


PAGE 

II.  The  Doctrine  of  the  Modes.  (Exposition  and  Criticism)  . 299 

a.  The  causal  relation  of  God  to  the  modes  and  of  the  modes 

to  each  other : — 

The  modes  as  expressions  of  God,  their  immanent  cause  299 
The  modes  as  linked  to  each  other  by  temporal  causality  300 

b.  The  independence  and  the  parallelism  of  the  two  mode 

series 302 

(Criticism : The  independence  of  the  modes  is  incompati- 
ble with  the  unity  of  substance.  The  parallelism  is 
argued  from  the  independence.) 

CHAPTER  IX 

THE  ADVANCE  TOWARD  MONISTIC  SPIRITUALISM: 

THE  SYSTEMS  OF  FICHTE,  SCHELLING,  AND 
SCHOPENHAUER 

(Introduction : The  Double  Relation  of  Post -Kantian  Philosophy 


to  Kant  and  to  Spinoza) 307 

A.  THE  TEACHING  OF  FICHTE 

I.  Fichte’s  Popular  Philosophy 

a.  The  first  stage  of  philosophical  thought:  scientific  deter- 

minism . . . . . . . . .311 

b.  The  second  stage  of  philosophical  thought : phenomenalistic 

idealism 312 

c.  The  third  and  final  stage  of  philosophical  thought : ethical 

idealism 314 


II.  Fichte’s  Technical  Philosophy 

a.  The  universe  consists  of  mutually  related  self  and  not-self  . 318 

b.  The  relatedness  of  self  and  not-self  implies  their  existence 

as  parts  of  an  independent,  that  is,  absolute,  reality  320 

c.  The  nature  of  the  absolute  reality : it  is : — 

1.  Absolute  I 321 

2.  Impersonal  I : a system  of  finite  selves  . . . 325 

III.  Criticism  of  Fichte’s  Conclusion 

The  teaching  of  an  impersonal  I is  a contradiction  in  terms  . 328 

B.  THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  SCHELLING 

I.  Schelling’s  Early  Doctrine:  The  Universe  as  constituted 

by  the  Unconditioned  but  Impersonal  I . 331 
(Criticism : The  conception  of  an  impersonal  I is  self-contra- 
dictory.) 


XXII 


Contents 


PAGE 

II.  Schelling’s  Doctrine  of  the  Absolute  as  Nature  . . 336 

III.  Schelling’s  Doctrine  of  the  Absolute  as  Identity  . . 339 

(Criticism  : Schelling  virtually  restores  the  discredited  con- 
ception of  the  thing-in-itself.) 

C.  THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  SCHOPENHAUER 

I.  The  Teaching  of  Schopenhauer 

a.  The  world  of  phenomena  : ‘ the  world  as  idea  ’ . . . 344 

b.  The  will  as  ultimate  reality : ‘ the  world  as  will  ’ . . . 347 

1.  Schopenhauer’s  argument  for  the  doctrine  that  ulti- 

mate reality  is  of  the  nature  of  will  . . . 348 

2.  Schopenhauer’s  assumption  that  ultimate  reality  is  a 

single  One  349 

3.  Schopenhauer’s  conception  of  the  will  as  unsatisfied 

desire  : the  ethics  of  Schopenhauer  : — 

Schopenhauer’s  pessimism  .....  352 

Schopenhauer’s  ethical  doctrine  of  self-renuncia- 
tion   353 

II.  Estimate  of  Schopenhauer’s  Teaching 

a.  The  inadequacy  of  Schopenhauer’s  conception  of  the  will 

as  mere  desire  .......  355 

b.  Inadequacy  of  the  conception  of  the  ultimate  reality  as 

mere  will 358 

The  adequacy  of  Schopenhauer’s  implication  that  ultimate 

reality  is  absolute  self 359 

CHAPTER  X 

MONISTIC  SPIRITUALISM:  THE  SYSTEM  OF  HEGEL 

I.  Ultimate  Reality  is  neither  Undetermined  nor  Unknow- 
able   363 

II.  Ultimate  Reality  is  Absolute  One,  for 

a.  Ultimate  reality  is  not  one  single  limited  reality,  for 

1.  Every  limited  reality  is  at  least  ‘same,’  and  thus 

implies  the  existence  of  other  realities  . . 369 

2.  Every  limited  reality  is  dependent  on  others  and  thus 

requires  their  existence 372 

b.  Ultimate  reality  is  not  a composite  of  all  partial  realities : — 

1.  Ultimate  reality  is  not  an  aggregate  ....  376 


Contents  xxiii 

PAGE 

2.  Ultimate  reality  is  not  a complete  system  of  related 

partial  realities 377 

III.  Ultimate  Reality  is  Self;  for 

a.  Ultimate  reality  is  not  adequately  conceived  as  mere  Life  . 383 

b.  Ultimate  reality  is  not  adequately  conceived  as  totality  of 

particular  selves 385 

Hegel’s  Applications  of  his  Doctrine  ....  389 


CONCLUSION 

CHAPTER  XI 

CONTEMPORARY  PHILOSOPHICAL  SYSTEMS:  THE 

ISSUE  BETWEEN  PLURALISTIC  AND  MONISTIC 
PERSONALISM 


A.  CONTEMPORARY  NON-IDEALISTIC  SYSTEMS 
L Materialism.  (Qualitatively  Monistic)  ....  397 
II.  Monistic  Realism  : The  Doctrine  of  the  Unknown  Reality 

(Qualitatively  Pluralistic)  ....  400 
III.  Dualism  (Neo-Realism) 402 

B.  CONTEMPORARY  SYSTEMS  OF  IDEALISM 
I.  Phenomenalism.  (Numerically  Pluralistic)  ....  404 

II.  Personal  Idealism  (Personalism) 406 

(The  nature  and  the  consciousness  of  self.) 

a.  Pluralistic  personal  idealism 41 1 

Theistic 413 

Anti-theistic 413 

b.  Monistic  personal  idealism  . . . . . . .417 

The  argument  for  the  existence  of  the  absolute  self  . 418 

The  nature  of  the  absolute  self 422 

The  absolute  self  in  its  relation  to  the  partial  selves  . 435 

(a)  The  relation  of  the  absolute  self  and  of  the  partial 

selves  to  time  .......  440 

(3)  The  freedom  of  the  partial  self  as  related  to  the 

absoluteness  of  the  absolute  self  ....  446 

(V)  Immortal  moral  selves  and  nature-selves  . . 453 


XXIV 


Contents 


APPENDIX 

BIOGRAPHIES  AND  BIBLIOGRAPHIES  OF  MODERN 
WRITERS  ON  PHILOSOPHY,  TOGETHER  WITH 
SUMMARIES  AND  DISCUSSIONS  OF  CERTAIN  TEXTS 

FORERUNNERS  OF  MODERN  PHILOSOPHY 

PAGE 

Giordano  Bruno 457 

Francis  Bacon 458 

CONTINENTAL  PHLLOSOPHERS  THROUGH 
LEIBNIZ 

Rene  Descartes 

I.  Life 459 

II.  Bibliography 462 

The  Occasionalists  : — 

Arnold  Geulinx 463 

Nicolas  Malebranche 464 

Baruch  De  Spinoza 

I.  Life 464 

II.  Bibliography 466 

III.  Note  upon  Spinoza’s  Doctrine  of  the  Infinite  Modes  . . 468 

IV.  Exposition  and  Estimate  of  Parts  II.- V.  of  Spinoza’s  Ethics  . 469 

Gottfried  Wilhelm  von  Leibniz 

I.  Life 483 

II.  Bibliography 485 

BRITISH  PHILOSOPHERS  THROUGH  HUME 
I.  Materialists  and  their  Opponents 

Thomas  Hobbes 

I.  Life 487 

II.  Bibliography 49° 

Opponents  of  Materialism:  The  Cambridge. Platonists  . . 49 1 

Later  British  Materialists  (Deists) 492 

II.  Dualists  of  the  Enlightenment 

John  Locke 

I.  Life 

II.  Bibliography 493 


Contents 


XXV 


PAGE 

The  Scottish  School  of  Common-sense  Philosophers  . . . 494 

III.  Spiritualistic  Idealists 

George  Berkeley 

I-  Life 495 

II.  Bibliography 497 

Arthur  Collier 498 

IV.  The  Phenomenalist 

David  Hume 

I.  Life 498 

II.  Bibliography 500 

British  Writers  on  Ethics  and  on  Theology 

CONTINENTAL  PHILOSOPHERS  OF  THE 
EIGHTEENTH  CENTURY 

I.  Rationalistic  Dualists 504 

II.  French  Materialists  and  their  Contemporaries  . . . 504 

III.  Humanists 506 

KANT  AND  THE  KANTIANS 

Immanuel  Kant 

I.  Life 507 

II.  Bibliography 509 

III.  Outline  of  the  “ Kritik  of  Pure  Reason  ” . . . . 513 

IV.  Detailed  study  of  certain  sections  of  the  “ Kritik  of  Pure 

Reason  ” : — 

( a ) The  space  and  time  doctrine 

1.  The  arguments  of  the  Esthetic  . . . .516 

2.  The  arguments  of  Antinomies  1 and  2 . .521 

(3)  The  doctrine  of  the  categories 525 

The  Kantians 534 

THE  POST-KANTIAN  MONISTIC  IDEALISTS 

Johann  Gottlieb  Fichte 

I.  Life 536 

II.  Bibliography  . . . . 538 

Friedrich  W.  J.  Schelling 

I.  Life 540 

II.  Bibliography  . 542 


XXVI 


Contents 


PAGE 

Georg  Wilhelm  Friedrich  Hegel 

!•  Life 543 

II.  Bibliography  ..........  545 

III.  Critical  Note  upon  the  Order  of  the  Hegelian  Categories  . 549 

Arthur  Schopenhauer 

I.  Life 552 

II.  Bibliography 554 

NINETEENTH-CENTURY  PHILOSOPHERS  AFTER 
HEGEL 

Positivists  (Opponents  of  Metaphysics)  ......  556 

Opponents  of  Idealism  : — 

Materialists 556 

Monistic  Realists 557 

Idealists  : — 

Phenomenalists 557 

Pluralistic  Personalists 557 

Note : Pragmatists  and  Pragmatism 558 

Monistic  Personalists 560 

GENERAL  WORKS  ON  PHILOSOPHY 

I.  Introductions  to  Philosophy 562 

II.  General  Histories  of  Philosophy 563 

III.  Histories  of  Modern  Philosophy 564 


INTRODUCTION 


CHAPTER  I 


THE  NATURE,  TYPES,  AND  VALUE  OF  PHILOSOPHY 

<f>i\ocr6<povs  . . . toi)s  SS  a\i]6ivo i5s,  €(£17,  T^as  X^yets;  roi)s  r^s 
&\t]ddas,  7]V  S'  iyui,  <fn\odedfM>vas. — PLATO. 

I.  The  Nature  of  Philosophy 

When  Socrates,  in  the  immortal  conversation  at  the  house 
of  Cephalus,  defined  the  philosopher  as  lover  of  the  vision  of 
the  truth,  he  was  describing,  not  the  metaphysician,  but  the 
seer.  For  philosophy,  in  the  more  technical  sense,  differs 
from  the  mere  love  of  wisdom;  it  is  reasoned  knowledge, 
not  pure  insight,  and  the  philosophic  lover  of  the  vision  must 
work  out  the  blessed  way  to  realized  truth.  With  philosophy 
in  this  more  restricted  meaning  of  the  term,  a meaning  which 
Plato  and  Aristotle  fixed  by  adopting  it,  this  chapter  and  this 
book  will  principally  deal. 

Philosophy,  once  conceived  as  reasoning  discipline,  is  not, 
however,  completely  defined.  Thus  regarded,  philosophy  is 
indeed  distinguished,  as  reflective,  from  everyday  experience 
which  accepts  or  rejects  but  does  not  reflect  on  its  object; 
and  is  distinguished,  as  theoretical,  from  art  which  creates 
but  does  not  reason.  In  both  these  contrasts,  however, 
philosophy  resembles  natural  science,  for  that  also  reflects  and 
reasons.  The  really  important  problem  of  the  definition  of 
philosophy  is  consequently  this:  to  distinguish  philosophy 
from  natural  science.  Evidently,  philosophy  differs  from, 
science  negatively  in  so  far  as,  unlike  science,  it  does  not  seek  ] 
and  classify  facts,  but  rather  takes  its  materials  ready-made  \ 
from  the  sciences,  simply  reasoning  about  them  and  from  |> 
them.  But  if  this  constituted  the  only  contrast,  then  philos- 
ophy would  be  a part,  merely,  of  science,  not  a distinct  dis- 

3 


4 


The  Nature  of  Philosophy 


cipline.  For  science  does  not  stop  at  observation,  though  it 
begins  with  it;  in  truth,  science  as  well  as  philosophy 
reasons  and  explains.  Philosophy,  therefore,  if  conceived 
simply  as  the  process  of  reasoning  about  scientific  phenom- 
I ena,  would  be  merely  the  explanatory  side  of  science.  There 
are,  however,  in  the  view  of  most  students,  two  important  con- 
trasts which  hold  between  science  and  philosophy : philosophy 
must  take  as  its  object  the  utterly  irreducible  nature  .of  some 
reality;  and  philosophy  may  take  as  its  object  the  ultimate 
nature  not  only  of  a single  fact  or  group  of  facts,  but  of  all- 
that.- there- is,  “the  ultimate  reality  into  which  all  else  can  be 
resolved  and  which  cannot  itself  be  resolved  into  anything 
beyond,  that  in  terms  of  which  all  else  can  be  expressed  and 
which  cannot  itself  be  expressed  in  terms  of  anything  outside 
l itself.” 1 In  both  respects  a natural  science  differs  from 
philosophy.  To  begin  with  the  character  last  named: 
philosophy,  as  has  been  said,  may  concern  itself  with  the  all-of- 
reality  — and  an  adequate  philosophy  will  certainly  seek  to 
discover  the  nature  of  the  all-of-reality ; a science,  on  the 
other  hand,  studies  facts  of  one  order  only,  that  is,  it  analyzes 
merely  a limited  group  of  phenomena.  Again,  philosophy, 
whatever  its  scope,  always  concerns  itself  with  the  irreducible 
nature  of  some  reality ; whereas  a science  does  not  properly 
raise  the  question  whether  these,  its  phenomena,  are  in  the 
end  reducible  to  those  of  another  order. 

These  distinctions  may  be  readily  illustrated.  The  physi- 
ologist, for  example,  does  not  inquire  whether  or  not  the 
limited  object  of  his  study,  the  living  cell,  is  in  its  fundamental 
nature  a physical  or  a psychical  phenomenon  — whether,  in 
other  words,  protoplasm  reduces,  on  the  one  hand,  to  physical 
energy,  or,  on  the  other  hand,  to  consciousness.  On  the  con- 
trary the  physiologist,  properly  unconcerned  about  the  com- 

1 R.  B.  Haldane,  “The  Pathway  to  Reality,”  I.,  p.  19.  Cf.  also  Hegel, 
“ Encyclopedia,”  I.,  “ Logic,”  Chapters  1,  2,  6,  for  discussion  of  the  nature 
of  philosophy;  and  cf.  infra,  Chapter  n,  pp.  369  seq.  for  consideration  of 
Hegel’s  view  that  no  irreducible  reality  can  be  limited,  and  that  conse- 
quently the  object  of  philosophy  is,  of  necessity,  the  all-of-reality. 


The  Nature  of  Philosophy 


5 


pleteness  or  about  the  utter  irreducibleness  of  his  object, 
confines  himself  to  analysis  within  arbitrary  limits  of  his 
living  cells,  leaving  to  the  philosopher  the  questions : What 
is  the  real  nature  of  these  psychical  and  these  physical  pro- 
cesses? Is  reality  ultimately  split  up  into  psychical  and 
physical?  Is  the  division  a final  one,  or  is  the  pyschical 
reducible  to  the  physical  ? Is  thought  a function  of  brain 
activity?  Or,  finally,  is  the  physical  itself  reducible  to  the 
psychical;  that  is,  is  matter  a manifestation  of  conscious 
spirit  ? More  than  this,  the  physicist  links  fact  with  fact,  the 
rising  temperature  with  the  increased  friction,  the  spark  with 
the  electric  contact.  The  philosopher,  on  the  other  hand, 
if  he  take  the  largest  view  of  his  calling,  seeks  the  connection  of 
each  fact  or  group  of  facts  — each  limited  portion  of  reality  - — 
with  the  adequate  and  complete  reality.  His  question  is  not, 
how  does  one  fact  explain  another  fact  ? but,  how  does  each 
fact  fit  into  the  scheme  as  a whole  ? 

Both  characters  of  the  object  of  philosophy  are  indicated 
by  the  epithet  ‘ultimate,’  of  which  frequent  use  is  made  in 
this  book.  Because  the  object  of  philosophy  is  entirely 
irreducible  and  because  the  object  of  philosophy  may  be  the 
all-of-reality — for  both  these  reasons,  it  is  often  called  ultimate 
and  is  contrasted  with  the  proximate  realities  of  natural  science. 
It  is  ultimate  because  it  is  utterly  irreducible  and  is  not  a 
mere  manifestation  of  a deeper  reality ; it  is  ultimate,  also,  in 
so  far  as  there  is  nothing  beyond  it,  in  so  far,  that  is,  as  it  in- 
cludes all  that  exists.  It  follows,  from  the  utter  irreducible- 
ness and  from  the  absolute  completeness  which  an  adequate 
philosophy  sets  before  itself,  that  philosophyis  rather  a search. 
a pursuit,  an  endeavor,  than  an  achievement.  This  character 
is  widely  recognized.  Stumpf,  for  example,  conceives  philos- 
ophy as  the  question-science;  James  defines  metaphysics  as 
the  unusually  obstinate  effort  to  ask  questions ; and  Paulsen 
says  that  philosophy  is  no  ‘closed  theory’  but  a ‘problem.’ 
All  these  characters  assigned  to  philosophy  may  finally  be 
gathered  up  into  one  definition : Philosophy  is  the  attempt  to 


6 


The  Nature  of  Philosophy 

discover  by  reasoning  the  utterly  irreducible  nature  of  any- 
thing ; and  philosophy,  in  its  most  adequate  form,  seeks  the 
ultimate  nature  of  all-that-there-is. 


II.  The  Approach  to  Philosophy 

The  preceding  discussion,  brief  as  it  is,  of  the  nature  of 
philosophy,  has  disclosed  certain  perils  which  menace  the 
student  of  philosophy.  Because  the  systematic  observation 
of  phenomena  is  the  peculiar  province  not  of  philosophy 
but  of  science,  the  student  of  philosophy  is  tempted  to  deal 
in  vague  abstractions,  in  lifeless  generalities,  often,  alas,  in 
mere  bloodless  words  and  phrases.  And  because  he  admits 
that  his  own  study  is,  at  the  beginning,  a setting  of  problems, 
a questioning,  not  a dogmatic  formulation,  he  is  tempted  not 
to  press  for  a solution  of  his  problems,  to  cherish  his  questions 
for  their  own  sake. 

The  only  way  of  avoiding  both  these  pitfalls  is  to  approach 
the  philosophical  problems  by  the  avenue  of _ scientific  inves- 
tigation, and  from  time  immemorial,  the  great  philosophers 
have  emphasized  this  truth.  Hegel  heaped  scorn  upon  the 
common  view  that  philosophy  consists  in  the  lack  of  scientific 
information,  and  had  no  condemnation  too  severe  for  the 
‘ arm-chair  philosophy  ’ which  makes  of  metaphysic  a ‘ rhetoric 
of  trivial  truths’;  and,  in  the  same  spirit,  Paulsen  recently 
writes,  “A  true  philosopher  attacks  things  (ein  recht- 
schafjener  Philo  soph  7nacht  sich  an  die  Dinge  selbst)”  The 
philosopher,  Paulsen  continues,  “must  at  some  point,  touch 
bottom  with  his  feet.  . . . He  may  freely  choose  his  sub- 
ject from  the  psychological  or  from  the  physical  sciences;  for 
as  all  roads  lead  to  Rome,  so  among  the  sciences,  all  paths 
lead  to  philosophy,  but  there  are  no  paths  through  the  air.’.’ 

Paulsen’s  assertion  that  philosophy  may  be  reached  by  way 
of  any  one  of  the  sciences  is  confirmed  by  the  experience  of  the 
great  philosophers.  Descartes  and  Leibniz  and  Kant  were 


The  Approach  to  Philosophy 


7 


mathematicians  and  physical  scientists  as  well  as  philosophers ; 
and  Locke,  Berkeley,  and  Hume  were  psychologists.  But 
though  metaphysics  may  be  approached  from  any  point  on 
the  circumference  of  the  sciences,  it  is  not  to  be  denied  that 
certain  inconsistencies  and  even  fallacies  have  often  charac- 
terized the  systems  of  mathematicians  and  natural  scientists 
who  turn  to  philosophy.1  It  is  equally  certain  that  these 
defects  have  been  due  to  a confusion  of  scientific  with  philo- 
sophical ideals,  of  scientific  with  metaphysical  standards. 
Indirectly,  these  confusions  suggest  the  value  of  still  another 
entrance  to  philosophy,  the  approach  hy.  way  of  what  is 
ordinarily  called  the  history  of  philosophy. 

Such  a study  has  two  definite  advantages,  and  one  of  these 
is  distinctive.  In  common  with  the  natural  sciences,  this 
study  of  philosophical  texts  shares  the  advantage  of  being  a 
(1 ) study  of  facts.  Its  facts,  to  be  sure,  are  second-hand  tran- 
scripts of  reality,  not  direct  experiences  (and  herein  lies  the 
disadvantage  of  the  method) ; but  nobody  who  hammers  out 
the  meaning  of  Spinoza,  of  Kant,  or  of  Aristotle,  who  compares 
passages  to  get  at  their  common  significance  or  divergence, 
who  estimates  the  different  statements  of  a philosopher  with 
reference  to  the  date  of  their  formulation  — no  student  of 
texts,  in  a word,  can  be  accused  of  floating  about  vaguely  in  a 
sea  of  abstractions.  The  more  characteristic  advantage  of 
this  approach  to  philosophy  is  the  fact  that  it  forces  the  stm 
i)  dent  to_take  different  points  of  view.  Spinoza’s  monism 
challenges  the  dualism  of  Descartes,  and  Leibniz’s  emphasis 
• on  individuality  throws  into  relief  the  problem  neglected  by 
Spinoza.  The  student  of  pre-Kantian  philosophy  may  turn 
out  dualist  or  monist  or  pluralist,  but  he  cannot  accept  any 
one  hypothesis  in  a wholly  uncritical  and  dogmatic  way,  as  if 
no  other  alternative  could  be  seriously  considered.  Even  the 
scrupulous  and  rigorous  study  of  any  one  great  philosophical 
system  must  reveal  the  means  for  the  correction  of  its  own 


1 Cf.  Appendix,  pp.  518  seq.,  and  Chapter  n,  pp.  398  seq. 


8 


The  Approach  to  Philosophy 


inconsistencies.  Hume,  for  example,  implies  the  existence  of 
the  self  which  he  denies,  for  he  employs  the  / to  make  the 
denial;  and  Kant’s  admissions  concerning  the  moral  con- 
sciousness, if  applied  as  they  logically  should  be  to  all  experi- 
ence, would  solve  his  paradox  of  self-consciousness. 

All  this  suggests  the  requirements  of  an  adequate  study  of 
philosophical  texts.  It  is,  first  and  foremost,  the  duty  of  the 
student  to  find  out  what  the  philosopher  whom  he  studies  says 
and  means.  This  is  not  always  an  easy  task.  If,  for  example, 
one  is  studying  Kant  or  Hegel,  one  has  virtually  to  learn  a new 
language.  It  makes  no  difference  how  much  German  one 
knows,  Kant  and  Hegel  do  not  always  speak  in  German,  and 
Kant  does  not  even  always  use  the  same  language  for  two 
consecutive  sections.  This  bare  text  criticism,  indispensable 
as  it  is,  is  however  a mere  preliminary  to  the  real  expository 
process,  the  re-thinking  of  a philosopher’s  argument,  the  sym- 
pathetic apprehension  of  his  thought.  This  means,  of  course, 
that  one  reads  and  re-reads  his  text,  that  one  outlines  his  ar- 
gument and  supplies  the  links  that  are  evidently  implied  but 
verbally  lacking,  and  that  one  combines  the  arguments  of  his 
different  philosophical  works.  Only  when  this  task  of  in- 
terpretation is  completed  can  one  fairly  enter  upon  the 
criticism  of  a metaphysical  system.  But  the  criticism, 
though  chronologically  later,  is  a necessary  feature  of  the 
study.  We  do  not  read  philosophy  in  order  to  become  dis- 
ciples or  to  adopt,  wholesale,  anybody’s  views.  We  must, 
therefore,  challenge  a philosopher’s  conclusions  and  probe  his 
arguments.  The  only  danger  in  the  process  is  that  it  will  be 
premature ; in  other  words,  that  we  oppose  what  we  do  not 
fully  understand.  Both  interpretation  and  criticism,  to  be 
of  value,  must  be  primarily  first-hand.  The  curse  of  the 
study  of  literature  and  of  philosophy  alike  is  the  pernicious 
habit  of  reading  books  about  books,  without  reading  the  books 
themselves.  Interpretation  and  criticism,  finally,  have  for 
their  main  purpose  the  development  of  one’s  own  capacity 
to  think  constructively,  or  at  any  rate,  independently.  One’s 


The  Types  of  Philosophy 


9 


first  object  in  reading  philosophy  is,  to  be  sure,  the  discovery  of 
what  philosophers  mean,  but  this  is  not  one’s  main  purpose. 
For  of  the  great  teacher  of  philosophy  that  must  be  true 
which  Herder  said  of  Kant  in  the  early  years  of  his  teach- 
ing, “He  obliged  me  to  think  for  myself ; for  tyranny  was 
foreign  to  his  soul.”  Independent  thought  about  the  prob- 
lems of  ultimate  reality  is,  thus,  the  goal  of  philosophical  study. 

III.  The  Types  of  Philosophy 

Philosophical  systems  are  best  grouped  from  the  stand- 
point of  the  object  of  a complete  philosophy.  Regarding  this 
object,  the  irreducible  all-of-reality,  two  questions  suggest 
themselves  : First,  what  exactly  is  the  nature  of  the  universe 
when  it  is  reduced  to  the  fundamentally  real ; to  what  sort 
or  sorts  of  reality  does  it,  in  other  words,  reduce?  And 
second,  is  this  ultimate  reality  one  being  or  many  beings ; is 
it  simple  or  complex  ? To  the  second  of  these  questions  one 
of  two  answers  may  obviously  be  given : the  all-of-reality 
is  one,  or  else  it  is  more-than-one,  that  is,  many.  Systems  of 
philosophy  which  give  the  first  answer  may  be  called  numeri- 
cally monistic;  theories  which  regard  the  all-of-reality  as 
ultimately  a manifold  are  numerically  pluralistic.  _ 

But  neither  answer  gives  us  information  of  the  nature  of 
the  all-of-reality;  that  is,  neither  answers  the  first  of  the 
questions  of  philosophy.  Whether  the  universe  consist  of 
one  being,  oF  of  many,  still  the  student  of  philosophy  de- 
mands the  nature  of  this  one  real,  or  of  these  many  reals. 
At  first,  this  problem,  also,  is  a question  of  one  or  many. 
The  universe,  even  if  it  consist  of  many  beings,  may  be  all 
of  a kind  ; and  on  the  other  hand,  if  it  be  one,  that  One  may 
conceivably  have  a plural  nature.  The  first  is  a qualita- 
tively monistic,  the  second  a qualitatively  pluralistic,  concep- 
tion. (It  thus  appears  that  monism  is  a doctrine  which 
teaches  that  ultimate  reality  has  a unity  in  some  sense 
fundamental  to  its  plurality,  and  that  pluralism  is  a 
doctrine  which  denies  this  fundamental  unity.) 


IO 


The  Types  of  P hilosophy 


One  problem  remains : that  of  describing  or  naming  the 
ultimate  kind,  or  kinds,  of  reality.  And  to  facilitate  this 
description  we  must  distinguish  two  kinds  of  reality:  the 
universe  may  be  of  the  same  nature  as  my  consciousness  of  it ; 
or  it  may  be  radically  and  absolutely  unlike  my  consciousness. 
Philosophic  systems  are  idealistic  or  non-idealistic  as  they 
Lgive  the  first  or  the  second  answer  to  this  question;  and 
idealistic  systems  are  again  distinguished  according  as  they 
regard  consciousness  as  mere  succession  of  ideas  (and  in  this 
case  they  are  phenomenalistic  or  ideistic ) ; or  as  they  mean  by 
consciousness  a self  or  selves  being  conscious  (and  these  sys- 
tems are  called  spiritualistic  or  personalistic).  The  various 
chapters  of  this  book  will  explain  these  terms  more  fully 
and  will  seek  to  show  that  all  modem  systems  of  philosophy 
are  naturally  grouped  in  harmony  with  these  distinctions.  In 
the  following  scheme  this  grouping  is  indicated : — 


The  Representative  Modern  Philosophers  (through  Hegel) 


Numerically 

Pluralistic  Monistic 


Qualitatively  Qualitatively  Qualitatively  Qualitatively 

Pluralistic  Monistic  Pluralistic  Monistic 

(Dualistic) 

Non-ideal-  Ideal-  Idealistic 

istic  istic 

Spiri-  Phenome-  Spiritualistic 

tualistic  nalistic 

Descartes  Hobbes  Leibniz  Spinoza 

Locke  Berkeley  Hume 


(Dualistic  and  anti- 
phenomenalistic) 

Kant* 1  Fichte1 

Schelling  1 
Hegel 

Schopenhauer 

1 It  will  later  appear  that  the  systems  of  Kant,  Fichte,  and  Schelling  arej 
( internally  inconsistent. 


The  Value  of  Philosophy 


IX 


IV.  The  Value  of  Philosophy 

The  effort  has  been  made  to  show  that  there  is  room  for  a 
philosophy  fundamental  to  science,  and  that  it  need  not  be  a 
vague  or  abstract  study.  An  outline  of  the  main  types  of 
philosophic  thought  has  been  offered  and  all  seems  propitious 
for  our  metaphysical  venture.  And  yet  we  are  perhaps  reluc- 
tant to  embark.  Certain  questions  about  the  value  of  meta- 
physics press  upon  us : Is  the  study  of  philosophy  of  supreme 
importance  ? Is  it  worth  while  to  attempt  to  know  the  nature 
of  the  irreducible,  and  of  the  all-of-reality,  while  one  is  still 
so  ignorant  of  many  of  the  facts  of  science  ? May  one  not, 
with  greater  advantage,  devote  oneself  to  the  scientific  study 
of  certain  well-defined  groups  of  phenomena,  instead  of  losing 
oneself  in  a nebulous  search  for  ultimate  truth  — a quest 
which  promises  nothing,  which  sets  out  from  a problem, 
without  assurance  of  being  able  to  solve  it  ? 

For  some  of  us,  it  must  be  admitted,  the  time  for  asking 
these  questions  is  long  gone  by.  The  passion  for  the  highest  \ 
certainty,  the  most  inclusive  and  irreducible  reality,  has  taken 
possession  of  our  souls ; and  we  could  not  check  ourselves,  if 
we  would,  in  even  a hopeless  pursuit  of  ultimate  reality. 
The  prophecy  of  disappointment  avails  nothing  against  such 
a mood.  But  even  the  fact  that  we  must  be  philosophers, 
whether  we  will  or  not,  need  not  deter  us  from  the  effort  to 
estimate  correctly,  to  judge  dispassionately,  the  value  of 
philosophical  study.  It  is,  above  all  things,  necessary  to  ad- 
vance no  false  claim,  and  to  recognize  resolutely  that  the 
study  of  metaphysics  holds  out  no  promise  of  definite  results. 
“Philosophy,”  said  Novalis,  “can  bake  no  bread,  but  she  can 
give  us  God,  freedom,  and  immortality.”  But  though  one 
agree  with  Novalis’s  disclaimer  of  any  narrowly  utilitarian 
end  for  philosophy,  one  must  oppose  with  equal  vigor  his 
assertion  that  philosophy  gives  us  God,  freedom,  or  immor- 
tality. Philosophy,  in  the  first  place,  gives  us  nothing;  we  } 


12 


The  Value  of  Philosophy 

f wrest  from  her  all  that  we  gain;  and  it  is,  furthermore,  im- 
possible  at  the  outset  to  prophesy  with  certainty  what  will  be 
l the  result  of  our  philosophic  questioning,  our  rigorously 
' honest  search  for  the  irreducible  and  complete  reality.  We 
may  not,  therefore,  enter  on  the  study  of  philosophy  for  any 
I assurance  of  definite  results. 

Let  us  face  the  worst.  Let  us  suppose  that  our  meta- 
physical quest  is  an  endless  one,  that  we  never  reach  a satis- 
fying conclusion  of  thought,  that  no  results  withstand  the 
blasting  force  of  our  own  criticism ; even  so,  the  true  lover  of 
philosophy  will  claim  that  there  is  at  least  a satisfaction  in 
the  bare  pursuit  of  the  ultimate  reality,  a keen  exhilaration  in 
the  chase,  an  exceeding  joy  in  even  a fleeting  vision  of  the 
I truth.  In  less  figurative  terms:  if  philosophy  is  no  more 
than  a questioning,  at  least  it  formulates  our  questions,  makes 
them  consistent  with  each  other;  in  a word,  makes  us  capable 
of  asking  intelligent  questions.  It  is  good  to  know ; but  even 
to  know  why  we  do  not  know  may  be  a gain. 

But  I cannot  honestly  leave  the  subject  here.  My  experi- 
ence and  my  observation  alike  persuade  me  that  the  patient 
and  courageous  student  gains  more  from  philosophical  study 
than  the  mere  formulation  of  his  problem.  It  is  indeed  true 
that  the  finite  thinker  is  incapacitated  from  the  perfect  appre- 
hension of  absolutely  complete  reality.  But  though  he  may 
not,  in  the  nature  of  the  case,  gain  the  complete  solution  of  his 
problem,  he  can  scarcely  help  answering  some  questions  and 
discovering  that  others  cannot  rationally  be  asked.  More 
than  this,  he  may  well  learn  the  terms  in  which  the  solution 
of  his  problem  is  possible,  may  be  assured  whether  ultimate 
reality  is  one  or  many,  spirit  or  matter.  To  one  who  grants 
this  as  a probable,  or  even  a possible,  outcome  of  metaphysical 
investigation,  philosophy  becomes  not  merely  a privilege  but 
a duty,  since  the  philosophical  conclusion  has,  inevitably,  a 
bearing  on  the  personal  life.  Artificially,  and  by  an  effort, 
it  is  true,  one  may  divorce  one’s  life  from  one’s  announced 
» philosophy  — may  hold,  for  example,  to  egoistic  hedonism  as 


The  Value  of  Philosophy 


13 


the  justified  philosophical  system  while  one  lives  a life  of 
self-sacrifice,  or  may  combine  the  most  arrant  self-indulgence 
with  a rigorous  ethical  doctrine.  Ideally,  however,  as  we 
all  admit,  and  actually  always  to  a certain  degree,  our 
philosophy  “makes  a difference”;1  it  affects  conduct;  it 
moulds  the  life  of  personal  relations.  Philosophy  is,  in  other 
words,  a phase  of  life,  not  an  observation  of  life  from  the  out- 
side; and  the  more  adequate  the  philosophy,  the  more  con- 
sistent the  life  may  become.  To  provide  sound  theoretical 
foundation  for  noble  living,  to  shape  and  to  supplement 
conduct  by  doctrine,  becomes,  thus,  the  complete  aim  of  the 
philosopher,  whose  instinct  and  whose  duty  alike  impel  him 
to  the  search  for  ultimate  truth. 

1 F.  C.  S.  Schiller,  “Humanism,”  p.  197. 


SYSTEMS  OF  NUMERICAL 
PLURALISM 


CHAPTER  II 


PLURALISTIC  DUALISM:1  THE  SYSTEM  OF  DESCARTES 

“II  faut  . . . admirer  toujours  Descartes  et  le  suivre  quelquefois. ” 

— D’Alembert. 

I.  The  Beginnings  of  Modern  Philosophy 

No  one  has  ever  written  the  history  of  any  period  of  thought 
or  of  life  without  being  greatly  puzzled  about  the  point  at 
which  to  begin  it.  For  whatever  event  be  chosen  as  the  first  of 
the  chronicle,  this  hypothetically  first  event  is  conditioned  by 
other  events.  Every  history,  therefore,  begins  at  a more  or 
less  arbitrary  point;  and  the  history  of  modem  philosophy 
is  no  exception.  The  dividing  line  between  the  mediaeval 
and  the  modem  period  is  one  which  it  is  very  hard  to  draw ; 
in  other  words,  it  is  impossible  to  enumerate  qualities  which 
mark  off  absolutely  the  modem  from  the  mediaeval  epoch. 

The  mediaeval  period  seems,  however,  to  be  distinguished 
by  these  two  characters  among  others:  a subordination  of 
thought  to  revelation,  of  philosophy  to  dogma;  and  a dis- 
regard for  scientific  observation.  The  first  of  these  attributes 
of  mediaeval  philosophy  is  prominent'  in  the  works  of  philoso- 
phers throughout  the  period.  The  mediaeval,  and  especially 

1 The  clumsiness  of  a full  description,  in  technical  terms,  of  the  different 
systems  of  philosophy  has  been  avoided  in  these  chapter  headings.  Two 
terms  are  employed,  here  and  throughout,  of  which  the  first  describes  the 
system  from  the  numerical,  the  second  from  the  qualitative,  standpoint. 
Thus,  ‘pluralistic  dualism’  means,  ‘(numerically)  pluralistic  (qualitative) 
dualism.’  (Dualism  is  a form  of  pluralism,  here  a doctrine  of  two  kinds  of 
reality.)  Of  course  this  device  of  order  is  purely  arbitrary;  it  is  equally 
possible  to  describe  this  system,  for  instance,  as  dualistic  pluralism,  under- 
standing that  the  first  term  is  used  in  the  qualitative,  the  second  in  the 
numerical,  sense.  It  is  important  simply  to  contrast  sharply  these  two  points 
of  view. 


c 


17 


i8 


P luralistic  Dualism 


the  scholastic,  disregard  for  fact  — in  particular,  for  the  facts 
of  external  nature  — is  equally  apparent.  The  thinkers  of 
the  Middle  Ages  so  immersed  themselves  in  religious  doctrine 
and  in  the  implied  problems  of  ethics,  psychology,  and 
demonology,  that  they  could  not  be  affected  by  the  world  of 
nature.  Men  who  speculated  with  warm  concern  on  the 
composition  of  angels’  bodies  naturally  were  uninterested 
in  the  organs  of  an  animal’s  body  or  in  the  conformation  of 
the  physical  world. 

One  is  fairly  safe  in  the  assertion  that  a growing  inde- 
pendence of  dogma  and  a revived  interest  in  natural  science 
mark  off  the  period  of  modern  philosophy  from  that  which 
precedes  it,  though  even  this  generalization  is  distinctly  un- 
true if  too  rigidly  applied.  There  were  men  in  the  medi- 
aeval period  imbued  with  the  modern  instincts  for  indepen- 
dence and  for  scientific  investigation;  and  there  were  few 
philosophers  in  the  seventeenth  century  who  were  untouched 
by  medievalism.  But  the  teaching  of  the  greater  number  of 
philosophical  thinkers  and,  thus,  the  trend  of  philosophical 
thought  certainly  shows  signs  of  a change  toward  the  end  of 
the  sixteenth  and  the  beginning  of  the  seventeenth  century. 
We  are  therefore  justified  in  dating  modern  philosophy  from 
this  time. 

It  is  a more  difficult  and  a less  important  task  to  indicate 
the  very  first  of  modern  philosophers.  Some  historians  make 
the  claim  for  Francis  Bacon,  but  the  “Novum  Organon” is 
a doctrine  of  the  methods  of  science  rather  than  a philosophi- 
cal system.  With  far  more  reason,  it  is  often  held  that  the 
Italian  Giordano  Bruno1  was  the  first  of  modem  philosophers. 
There  is,  indeed,  no  question  of  Bruno’s  independence  of  ec- 
clesiastical authority,  of  his  keen  interest  in  the  nature  world, 
and  of  the  depth  of  his  philosophic  vision;  but  vision  and 
interest  are  often  those  of  poet  or  seer,  not  those  of  scientist  or 
philosopher,  and  Bruno’s  works,  which  are  without  argumen- 


1 Cf.  Appendix,  p.  457. 


The  System  of  Descartes 


19 


tative  form,  are  mystic  rhapsody  or  unargued  insight  rather 
than  ordered  philosophy.  By  some  such  process  of  elimina- 
tion many  historians  of  philosophy  have  dated  the  modem 
period  from  Rene  Descartes.1  It  is  convenient  to  follow  their 
lead,  for  unquestionably  Descartes’s  philosophy  is  of  a 
relatively  common  type,  probably  representing,  in  a way,  the 
philosophy  of  most  of  the  readers  of  this  book. 

The  revolt  of  modem  philosophy  from  the  influence  of  the 
church  is  curiously  illustrated  by  the  outward  life  and  station 
of  Descartes.  The  philosophers  of  the  mediaeval  period  had 
been  priests  or  monks,  or,  at  least,  university  teachers ; but 
Descartes  started  out  as  courtier  and  man  of  the  world,  and 
though  he  remained  throughout  his  life  an  obedient  son  of  the 
church,  he  never  occupied  an  ecclesiastical  or  an  academic 
office.  His  immediate  preparation  for  the  career  of  mathe- 
matician and  philosopher  consisted  of  four  years  of  foreign 
military  service,  chiefly  spent  in  the  Netherlands  and  in 
Bohemia,  in  search,  as  he  says,  for  “the  knowledge  which 
could  be  found  in  the  great  book  of  the  world.”  2 At  the  end 
of  this  period,  intellectual  interests  asserted  supreme  control 
over  Descartes’s  outward  life.  “I  was  in  Germany,”  he 
writes,  “and  . . . returning  from  the  coronation  of  the  em- 
peror, the  coming  of  winter  detained  me  in  a place  where,  hav- 
ing no  conversation  to  divert  me,  and  ...  no  cares  or  passions 
to  trouble  me,  I spent  the  day,  shut  up  alone  in  a tent  where 
I had  leisure  to  entertain  myself  with  my  thoughts.”  These 
thoughts  concerned  themselves  with  the  deepest  problems  of 
reality ; their  immediate  outcome  was  the  stirring  of  philo- 
sophic doubt  in  the  mind  of  Descartes,  his  conviction  that 
he  had  too  uncritically  adopted  the  opinions  of  his  teachers, 
and  his  resolve  to  build  up  for  himself  an  independent  philo- 


1 Cf.,  however,  N.  Smith,  “Studies  in  the  Cartesian  Philosophy,”  Chap- 
ter 1,  note,  p.  vi.,  for  the  assertion  that  “all  that  lies  outside  [Descartes’s] 
philosophy  of  nature  . . . remains  in  essentials  scholastic  in  conception.” 

2 “Discourse  on  Method,”  Pt.  I.,  second  paragraph  from  end,  Open 
Court  edition,  p.  g. 


20 


P luralistic  Dualism 


sophic  system.  The  criterion  of  truth  which  he  adopted 
was  the  following,  “never  to  receive  as  true  anything 
which  I did  not  evidently  know  to  be  true.5’ 1 And  he 
proposed  to  gain  this  evident  knowledge  by  a method 
formulated  in  the  following  precepts : “ To  divide  my  dif- 
ficulties,” “ To  conduct  my  thoughts  in  order,”  “To  review 
my  conclusions.”  2 

These  statements  of  Descartes’s  purpose  make  it  evident 
that  he  adopts,  on  the  one  hand,  the  three  acknowledged 
methods  of  scientific  thought,  analysis,  logical  reasoning,  and 
verification ; and,  on  the  other  hand,  |the  philosopher’s  atti- 
tude as  well,  dissatisfaction  with  conclusions  that  lack  utter 
certaintyj  This  desire  for  truth  gives  way,  however,  to  a posi- 
tive philosophical  doctrine.  From  a study  of  this  teaching  it 
will  appear  that  Descartes  gains,  by  his  philosophic  reflection 
and  reasoning,  a conception  familiar  to  us  all.  He  regards 
the  universe  as  made  up  of  spirits,  or  selves,  and  of  bodies, 
inorganic  and  organic.  Supreme  over  all  the  finite  or  limited 
spirits,  he  teaches,  and  over  all  the  bodies  is  an  infinite  and 
perfect  spirit,  God.  Descartes’s  philosophical  system  is 
evidently,  therefore,  pluralistic  — both  from  the  qualitative 
and  from  the  numerical  standpoint.  It  is  qualitatively  plu- 
ralistic or,  more  specifically,  dualistic,  in  that  it  teaches  that 
there  are  precisely  two  kinds  of  reality,  spiritual  and  material. 
It  is  numerically  pluralistic  through  its  teaching  that,  of  each 
of  these  classes  of  reality,  there  are  innumerable  examples  or 
instances;  that  each  sort  of  reality  is  embodied,  as  it  were,  in 
an  indefinite  number  of  specific  individuals,  or  things.  The 
effort  will  be  made  in  this  chapter,  first,  to  outline  this  system 
and  then  to  estimate  it.  Criticism  will  be  postponed  till  the 
doctrine  is  fully  stated,  in  the  hope  that  a sympathetic  under- 

1 This  criterion  is  embodied  in  his  first  ‘ precept  of  method.’  Cf.  “Dis- 
course on  Method,”  Pt.  II.,  seventh  paragraph,  Open  Court  edition,  p.  192. 

2 Ibid.,  paragraphs  8-10,  p.  19.  These  precepts  clearly  state  Descartes’s 
method  and  are  therefore  to  be  distinguished  from  the  first  precept,  quoted 
above,  which  states  his  criterion  of  truth. 


The  System  of  Descartes 


21 


standing  of  Descartes’s  opinions  may  precede  the  attempt  to 
estimate  their  value. 


II.  The  Philosophical  System  of  Descartes  1 
a.  The  preparation  for  philosophy : universal  doubt 

At  the  very  outset  of  his  philosophical  study,  Descartes 
finds  his  way  barred  by  a formidable  difficulty : philosophy 
is  the  attempt  by  reasoning  to  reach  a perfect  certainty ; and 
therefore  the  student  of  philosophy  must  start  from  some 
admitted  fact,  from  some  perfect  certainty,  however  small. 
But  Descartes  discovers,  when  he  searches  experience  for 
some  truth  unambiguously  certain  and  incapable  of  being 
doubted,  that  he  can  find  not  on£.!  Of  all  that  he  has  been 
taught  to  believe  there  is  nothing  whose  reality  may  not  be 
questioned.  His  quest  for  some  small  certainty  leaves  him 
without  any  certainty  on  any  subject;  in  other  words,  he 
finds  it  necessary  to  doubt  everything. 

At  first  sight  Descartes’s  attitude  of  universal  doubt  seems 
absurd.  It  is  possible,  we  shall  most  of  us  admit,  to  question 
the  existence  of  the  unseen  and  the  unexperienced ; but  how 
can  any  one  in  his  senses  doubt  the  reality  of  the  things  he 
himself  touches,  sees,  and  hears  — the  existence  of  objects 
of  the  physical  world  ? Descartes  has  a ready  answer  to  this 
question : we  cannot  be  absolutely  certain,  he  teaches,  of  the 
existence  of  the  things  we  perceive,  for  we  know  that  our  senses 
sometimes  mislead  us.  “All,”  he  says,  “that  I have  up  to 
this  moment  accepted  as  possessed  of  the  highest  truth  and  cer- 
tainty, I have  learned  either  from  or  through  my  senses.”  2 

1 This  study  of  Descartes’s  system  is  based  on  the  “Meditations”  (written 
1629,  published  1641),  the  “Principles  of  Philosophy”  (1644),  and  the  “Dis- 
course on  Method  ” (1631).  The  student  of  philosophy  should  read  at  least 
the  “ Meditations  ” before  entering  on  this  chapter;  and  he  may  well  add 
“Discourse,”  I.  and  V.,  and  “Principles,”  Pts.  I.,  II.,  and  IV.,  as  abbreviated 
in  the  Open  Court  edition. 

i!  “Meditations,”  I.,  paragraph  2. 


22 


P luralistic  Dualism 


But  the  senses  have  “sometimes  misled  us; 1 . . . I have  fre- 
quently observed  that  towers,  which  at  a distance  seem  round, 
appear  square  when  more  closely  viewed,  and  that  colossal 
figures,  raised  on  the  summits  of  these  towers,  look  like  small 
statues  when  viewed  from  the  bottom  of  them.  . . . Also,Ihave 
sometimes  been  informed  by  persons  whose  arms  or  legs  have 
been  amputated  that  they  still  occasionally  seem  to  feel  pain  in 
that  part  of  the  body  which  they  have  lost.”  2 These  examples 
and  innumerable  others  like  them  are  sufficient  to  prove  the 
fallaciousness  of  the  senses.  “And,”  Descartes  continues, 
“it  is  the  part  of  prudence  not  to  place  absolute  confidence  in 
that  by  which  we  may  have  even  once  been  deceived.”  3 
There  is  no  escape  from  this  argument  of  Descartes’s.  Surely 
we  have  all  heard  footsteps,  when,  as  we  have  later  discov- 
ered, there  was  no  one  near,  and  we  have  met  in  our  dreams 
people  as  vivid  as  any  in  so-called  waking  life ; and  yet  these 
illusory  sounds  and  these  dream  people  are  admitted  to  be 
unreal.  And  it  is  possible,  however  unlikely,  that  I am 
dreaming  at  this  very  instant;  or  that  the  pen  I grasp,  the 
words  I hear,  are  mere  illusions. 

So  far,  Descartes  has  proved  only  the  uncertainty  of  objects 
known  through  sense-perception.  But  our  doubt,  he  be- 
lieves, is  of  wider  extent.  It  is  possible  to  doubt  of  every 
object  of  knowledge:  even  mathematical  truths  concerning 
“body,  figure,  extension,  motion,  and  place”  may  be  “merely 
fictions  of  my  mind.”  4 This  follows,  he  teaches,  because 
every  human  knower  is  a finite  and  a limited  being.  How 
then  can  the  human  knower  be  sure  that  he  is  not  deceived 
in  his  most  profound  conviction  ? He  does  not  know  every- 
thing; how  can  he  be  certain  that  he  knows  anything?  5 In 
truth  he  may  be,  at  every  point,  in  error. 

1 “Meditations,”  I.,  paragraph  2. 

2 Ibid .,  VI.,  paragraph  6,  Open  Court  edition,  p.  89*. 

3 Ibid.,  I.,  paragraph  2. 

* Ibid.,  II.,  paragraph  2.  Cf.  “Principles,”  Pt.  I.,  Prop.  5. 

5 “Meditations,”  I.,  second  paragraph  from  end.  The  exact  form  in 
which  Descartes  conceives  this  possibility  is  the  following:  that  God — -or, 
more  likely,  some  ‘malignant  demon’  — has  deceived  him. 


The  System  of  Descartes 


2 3 


Descartes  does  not  teach,  it  will  be  noticed,  that  we  are  in 
error  in  all  that  we  believe ; he  insists  merely  that  we  may  be 
in  error.  In  other  words,  he  does  not  deny,  but  he  doubts, 
the  reality  of  everything.  And  in  this  situation,  as  he  clearly 
recognizes,  philosophy  is  impossible. 

b.  The  implication  of  doubt:  the  existence  0}  myself 

The  hopelessness  of  Descartes’s  situation  is  suddenly  re- 
lieved by  his  discovery  of  one  unquestioned  truth : that  he 
himself  exists.  !He  cannot  doubt  this,  for  doubt  itself  would 
be  impossible  if  he  did  not  exisjtJ  “I  suppose  myself  to  be 
deceived,”  he  exclaims,  “doubtless  then  I exist,  since  I am 
deceived.”  1 Herewith  Descartes  reaches  the  real  starting 
point  of  his  philosophical  system,  the  certainty  which  is 
immediately  evident  to  each  one  of  us,  namely,  the  existence  of 
myself.  “I  had  the  persuasion  ” he  says,  “ that  there  was  abso- 
lutely nothing  in  the  world,  that  there  was  no  sky  and  no  earth, 
neither  minds  nor  bodies.  Was  I not,  then,  at  the  same  time 
persuaded  that  I did  not  exist?  Far  from  it;  I assuredly 
existed,  since  I was  persuaded.”  It  is,  indeed,  impossible 
“that  I am  nothing,  so  long  as  I shall  be  conscious  that  I am 
something.  . . . This  proposition,  I am,  I exist,  is  neces- 
sarily true  each  time  it  is  expressed  by  me  or  conceived  in 
my  mind.”  2 In  other  words,  Descartes  asserts  that  he  is 
immediately  certain  of  his  own  existence  and  that  the  certainty 
of  a self  which  doubts  is  implied  by  every  doubt,  even  the  most 
radical. 

This  doubting  self,  Descartes  proceeds  to  describe.  It  is, 
first  of  all,  conscious : it  is  known  in  doubting,  believing  — in 
a word,  in  ‘thinking,’  for  Descartes  understands  by  the 
word  “thought  ( cogitatio ),  all  that  which  so  takes  place  in  us 
that  we  of  ourselves  are  immediately  conscious  of  it;  and 


1 “Meditations,”  II.,  paragraph  3. 


2 Ibid. 


24 


P luralistic  Dualism 


accordingly  not  only  understanding,  willing,  imagining,  but 
even  perceiving.”  1 Furthermore,  the  self  is  not  identical 
with  any  one  of  its  thoughts  or  doubts,  — in  other  words,  with 
any  one  of  its  ideas,  — orevenwith  thesumof  them.  Descartes 
expresses  this  by  the  teaching  that  there  is  a self,  soul,  or 
mind,  which  has  ideas  and  is  conscious.  “I  am,”  he  says, 
“precisely  speaking,  ...  a thinking  thing,  a mind.”  2 In 
the  third  place,  Descartes  teaches,  the  self  is  free.  Of  this 
freedom,  he  believes  that  he  is  directly  conscious.  “I  ex- 
perience,” he  says,  “ . . . the  freedom  of  choice;  ” 3 “ I am 
conscious  of  will,  so  ample  and  extended  as  to  be  superior  to  all 
limits.”  (The  conception  of  the  freedom  of  the  self  will  be 
considered  in  more  detail  in  another  connection.4) 

It  is  most  important  to  realize  the  meaning  of  this  doctrine 
of  the  self.  I For  if  Descartes’s  preliminary  doubt  is  justified, 
the  certainty  of  myself  is  the  starting  point  of  every  philosophy, 
and  not  of  Descartes’s  only.j  It  is  true  that  philosophy  was 
defined  as  the  attempt  to  discover  the  irreducible  nature  of 
anything;  [but  if  I must  begin  by  doubting  everything  save 
my  own  existence,  then  the  truth  that  I am  must  be  my  point 
of  departure  in  the  search  for  ultimate  reality^  For  as  Des- 
cartes and  St.  Augustine  long  before  him  5 pointed  out,  it  is  the 
one  certainty  immediately  evident  in  the  very  act  of  doubting. 
To  be  uncertain  is  to  be  conscious;  and  consciousness  inev- 
itably implies  the  existence  of  somebody  being  conscious.  fAs 
surely  then  as  doubt  or  uncertainty  exists  on  any  subject,  so 
surely  a conscious,  doubting  self  exists.  The  nature  of  this 

1 “Principles,”  Pt.  I.,  Prop.  9.  Cf.  Definition  I.,  from  “Reply  to  the 
Second  Objections  to  the  Meditations,”  Open  Court  edition,  p.  215.  For 
a view  opposed  to  that  here  stated,  i.e.  for  the  teaching  that  perception 
is  an  “attribute  of  the  soul  . . . impossible  without  the  body,”  cf.  “Medi- 
tations,” II.,  paragraph  5,  Open  Court  edition,  p.  32. 

• 2 Ibid.,  II.,  paragraph  5,  Open  Court  edition,  p.  331. 

3 Ibid.,  IV.,  paragraph  7,  Open  Court  edition,  p.  67  seq. 

4 Cf.  infra,  pp.  44,  91  seq.,  265  seq. 

6 “ De  BeataVita,”  7;  “ De  Trinitate,”  X.,  14  etal;  “ De  Civitate  Dei,” 
XI.,  c.  26,  Eng.  trans.  (by  Dods),  pp.  468-469.  “If  I am  deceived,  I am. 
For  he  who  is  not,  cannot  be  deceived.” 


The  System  of  Descartes 


25 


knowledge  of  oneself  — the  foundation  stone  of  Descartes’s 
system  — should  be  carefully  defined.  In  a sense,  of  course, 
it  is  immediate  or  unreasoned  knowledge,  the  unreflective 
sense  of  one’s  own  existence  which  is  common  to  us  all.  Yet, 
as  taken  up  into  philosophy,  this  knowledge  is  not  instinctive, 
uncritical  self-consciousness.  For  it  has  been  reasoned  about ; 
though  itself  immediate,  it  has  been  shown  to  be  implied  in  all 
doubt.  So  viewed,  it  is  distinguished  from  that  uncritical 
consciousness  of  self  which  belongs  to  the  everyday  life  and 
which  often  may  be  in  no  wise  distinguished  by  its  degree 
of  conviction  from  one’s  persuasion  of  the  existence  of 
physical  objects. 

c.  The  inference  from  my  own  existence:  the  existence  of 

God 

The  persistent  student  of  philosophy  — the  seeker  for  a 
knowledge  of  the  irreducible  all-of-reality  — may  not  rest 
contented  when  he  has  established,  by  reasoning,  this  one 
conviction  of  his  own  existence.  For  it  is  evident  that  what- 
ever is  required  or  implied  by  this  truth  — whatever,  in  other 
words,  may  be  demonstrated  from  it  — must  share  in  its 
certainty.  Thus,  the  next  question  of  the  philosopher,  who 
starts  with  Descartes’s  conviction  of  his  own  existence,  is 
the  following:  may  I demonstrate  from  my  own  existence 
the  existence  of  any  other  reality  ? To  this  question  Descartes 
worked  out  a definite  answer.  As  will  appear,  he  concluded 
that,  reasoning  from  his  own  existence,  he  could  demonstrate 
the  existence  of  God ; and  that,  reasoning  from  God’s  exist- 
ence, he  could  prove  the  existence  of  the  physical  world. 
y Evidently,  then,  Descartes’s  conception  of  God’s  nature  and 
I his  arguments  for  God’s  existence  are  of  greatest  significance 
l to  a student  of  his  system. 

It  is  enough,  for  the  present,  to  say  that  Descartes  means  by 
God  a perfect  (that  is,  a complete)  spirit  or  self : a being  all- 
powerful,  all-wise,  all-good.  For  the  existence  of  God,  he 


26 


P luralistic  Dualism 


has  four  arguments  and  these  are  of  two  main  types:  two 
ontological  arguments,  that  is,  arguments  from  the  character 
of  the  conception  of  God’s  nature,  and  two  causal  arguments. 
The  statement  of  these  arguments,  which  follows,  has  been 
made  as  simple  and  as  clear  as  possible.  The  arguments  are, 
none  the  less,  full  of  complications  and  will  claim  the  close 
attention  of  the  untrained  reader.  The  critical  consideration 
of  them  is  postponed  to  a later  section.  The  point  of  depar- 
ture, it  will  be  remembered,  always  is  the  clear  and  evident 
knowledge  of  one’s  own  existence. 

The  first  of  the  ontological  arguments  may  be  stated  thus : 
That  of  which  I have  a consciousness  as  clear  as  my  conscious- 
ness of  myself,  must  exist.  But  I am  as  clearly  conscious  of 
God  as  of  myself;  hence  God  exists.  In  Descartes’s  own 
words,  “Whatever  mode  of  probation  I adopt,  it  always  re- 
turns to  this,  that  it  is  only  the  things  I clearly  and  distinctly 
conceive  which  have  the  power  of  completely  persuading  me. 
. . . And  with  respect  to  God  ...  I know  nothing  sooner 
. . . than  the  existence  of  a Supreme  Being,  or  of  God.  And 
although  the  right  conception  of  this  truth  has  cost  me  much 
close  thinking,  ...  I feel  as  assured  of  it  as  of  what  I deem 
most  certain.”  1 

The  second  of  Descartes’s  ontological  arguments  is  many 
times  restated  in  his  works,  but  it  is  not  original  with  him. 
It  was  first  formulated  by  the  mediaeval  philosopher,  St. 
Anselm,  and  is  always  known  as  Anselm’s  argument  for  the 
existence  of  God.2  In  brief,  as  given  by  Descartes,  it  is  the 
following : The  idea  of  God  is  the  idea  of  an  all-perfect  Being. 
But  to  perfection,  or  completeness,  belong  all  attributes: 
power,  goodness,  knowledge,  and  also  existence.  Therefore 
God,  of  necessity,  exists.  “When  the  mind,”  says  Descar- 
tes, . . reviews  the  different  ideas  that  are  in  it,  it  dis- 
covers what  is  by  far  the  chief  among  them  — that  of  a Being 
omniscient,  all-powerful,  and  absolutely  perfect;  and  it  ob- 

1 “Meditations,”  V.,  paragraph  6,  Open  Court  edition,  p.  8ix. 

2 “Proslogium,”  Chapters  II.  and  III. 


The  System  of  Descartes 


2 7 


serves  that  in  this  idea  there  is  contained  not  only  possible 
and  contingent  existence,  as  in  the  ideas  of  all  other  things 
which  it  clearly  perceives,  but  existence  absolutely  necessary 
and  eternal.  And  just  as  because,  for  example,  the  equality 
of  its  three  angles  to  two  right  angles  is  necessarily  comprised 
in  the  idea  of  a triangle,  the  mind  is  firmly  persuaded  that  the 
three  angles  of  a triangle  are  equal  to  two  right  angles;  so, 
from  its  perceiving  necessary  and  eternal  existence  to  be  com- 
prised in  the  idea  which  it  has  of  an  all-perfect  Being,  it  ought 
manifestly  to  conclude  that  this  all-perfect  Being  exists.”  1 
— Descartes’s  causal  arguments  for  God’s  existence  may  both 
be  summarized  in  the  following  propositions:  I know  that 
I exist  and  that  I am  a finite,  incorporeal  being,  possessed  of 
the  idea  of  God,  an  infinite  and  perfect  Being.  But  both  I 
myself  and  my  idea  of  God  must  have  been  caused  by  a being 
capable  of  creating  and  preserving  me  and  the  idea  of  God 
within  me.  And  only  an  infinite  and  perfect  Being  can  be 
the  real  or  ultimate  cause  of  me,  and  of  this  idea  of  God. 
Therefore  such  an  infinite  Being,  God,  exists.2 

Before  stating  these  arguments  with  the  care  they  demand, 
it  is  important  to  analyze  the  concept  of  causality  on  which 
they  are  based.  Descartes’s  fundamental  principle  of  cau- 
sality is  the  doctrine  that  every  finite  reality  has  some  cause. 
This  conviction  is  implied  by  almost  every  statement  which 
he  makes  about  causality.  In  the  second  place,  Descartes 
believes  that  the  cause  of  every  finite  reality  is  a ‘conserving 
cause  ’ — that  is  to  say,  that  it  continues  while  its  effect  con- 
tinues. In  other  words,  he  denies  the  possibility  that  a cause 
should  cease  before  its  effect  ceases.  Finally,  Descartes  holds 
that  each  finite  reality  has  a cause  which  is  more  than  finite  — 
which  is,  in  other  words,  ‘self-existent,’  ‘ultimate,’  ‘total,’ 

1 “Principles,”  Pt.  I.,  Prop.  14.  Cf.  “Meditations,”  V.,  paragraph  3; 
and  “Reply  to  Second  Objections,”  Axiom  X.  (quoted  Open  Court  edition, 
p.  219  seq.). 

2 It  may  be  well  for  the  untrained  reader  to  omit  the  remainder  of  this 
section  in  the  first  reading  of  the  chapter. 


28 


P hiralistic  Dualism 


and  ‘efficient.’  Such  a cause  has,  he  teaches,  two  essential 
characters;  it  has  at  least  as  much  reality  as  its  effect; 
and  it  is  non-ideal,  or  in  Descartes’s  terminology  ‘formal,’  — 
that  is,  it  is  no  mere  idea.  Both  Descartes’s  causal  arguments 
for  the  existence  of  an  all-perfect  God  are  based,  as  will  ap- 
pear, upon  the  principles  just  formulated  — in  other  words, 
upon  the  necessity  of  (i)  some  cause  of  every  finite  reality, 
which  is  (2)  a conserving  cause  and  (3)  a more-than-finite,  — 
in  fact,  an  ultimate  cause ; and,  because  ultimate,  (a)  ‘formal’ 
or  real,  and  ( b ) as  perfect  as  its  effect.1 
v The  first  of  the  causal  arguments  for  God’s  existence,  in 
which  Descartes  embodies  these  principles,  if  not  entirely 
original  with  Descartes,  is  so  forcibly  stated  in  his  discussions 
of  God’s  existence  that  it  is  justly  known  as  the  Cartesian 
argument.  In  brief,  it  is  this:  An  all-perfect  Being,  God, 
must  exist.  For  I have  the  idea  of  such  an  all-perfect  Being; 
this  idea  must  have  some  cause ; I,  a finite  being,  could  not 
cause  in  myself  this  idea  of  an  infinite  God ; and  indeed  God 
alone  is  capable  of  producing  this  idea  of  God  which  un- 
questionably I possess.  In  Descartes’s  own  words  the  ar- 
gument is  as  follows:  “There  . . . remains  . . . the  idea 
of  God,  in  which  I must  consider  whether  there  is  anything 
which  cannot  be  supposed  to  originate  with  myself.  By  the 
name  God,  I understand  a Substance  infinite,  independent,  all- 
knowing, all-powerful,  and  by  which  I myself,  and  every  other 
thing  which  exists,  if  any  such  there  be,  were  created.  But 
these  properties  are  so  great  and  excellent  that  ...  it  is 
absolutely  necessary  to  conclude  . . . that  God  exists:  for 
I should  not  . . . have  the  idea  of  an  infinite  substance, 

1 Descartes  qualifies  this  doctrine  by  the  teaching  that  an  effect  is  “ pro- 
duced by  that  which  contains  in  itself  formally  or  eminently  all  that  enters 

into  its  composition,  in  other  words  by  that  which  contains  in  itself  the 
same  . . . properties  or  others  that  are  superior  to  them.”  (“  Medita- 
tions,” III.,  paragraph  n (French  translation),  Open  Court  edition,  p.  492. 
Italics  mine.  Cf.  “Reply  to  the  Second  Objections,”  Def.  IV.,  and  Axiom 
IV.,  Open  Court  edition,  pp.  216,  219.) 


The  System  of  Descartes 


29 


seeing  I am  a finite  being,  unless  it  were  given  me  by  some 
substance  in  reality  infinite.” 1 

This  argument  explicitly  involves  all  the  features  of  Des- 
cartes’s conception  of  cause,  save  the  doctrine  that  a cause 
must-  conserve  its  effect.  It  first  of  all  assumes  that  my  idea 
of  God  must  have  some  cause;  in  the  next  place,  it  assumes 
that  the  cause  must  be  ultimate,  and  therefore  real  being  (or 
in  Descartes’s  term,  ‘ formal  ’ reality)  and  not  a mere  idea  (in 
Descartes’s  words,  it  cannot  be  ‘objective’  reality).2  “In 
order,”  Descartes  says,  “that  an  idea  may  contain  this  objec- 
tive [ideal]  reality,  rather  than  that,  it  must  doubtless  derive  it 
from  some  cause  in  which  is  found  at  least  as  much  formal 
[not-ideal]  reality  as  the  idea  contains  of  objective  [ideal].”  3 
In  other  words,  every  idea  is,  of  necessity,  caused  by  some- 
thing which  is  more  real  than  any  idea.  This  argument  that 
God  exists  as  inevitable  cause  of  the  idea  of  God  implies, 
finally,  that  the  ultimate  cause  cannot  be  less  perfect  than 
its  effect.  Hence,  Descartes  argues,  I cannot  myself  be  the 
cause  of  this  idea  of  God,  seeing  that  I am  not  infinitely  pow- 
erful and  good.  It  follows  from  these  causal  principles,  that 
an  infinite  God  must  exist  to  cause  the  idea  of  God.  “Be- 


cause we  discover  in  our  mind,”  Descartes  says,  “the  idea 
of  God,  or  of  an  all-perfect  Being,  we  have  a right  to  inquire 
into  the  source  whence  we  derive  it;  and  we  shall  discover 
that  the  perfections  it  represents  are  so  immense  as  to  render 
it  quite  certain  that  we  could  only  derive  it  from  an  all-perfect 
Being;  that  is,  from  a God  really  existing.  For  it  is  not  only 
manifest  by  the  natural  fight  that  nothing  cannot  be  the  cause 

“Meditations,”  III.,  paragraph  15,  Open  Court  edition,  p.  54. 

2 This  terminology  of  Descartes  must  be  carefully  borne  in  mind  by  the 
reader  of  his  works.  For  by  ‘objective’  he  means  what  we  often  express  by 
precisely  the  opposite  term  (subjective)  ; that  is,  he  means  object  of  conscious- 
ness, thought,  or  idea.  By  1 formal,’  on  the  other  hand,  he  means  the  oppo- 
site of  ‘ objective  ’ — namely,  ‘ real,’  in  the  sense  of  not-idea.  This  use  of 
the  word  ‘formal’  is  foreign  to  modern  usage.  It  should  be  contrasted 
also  with  Descartes’s  use  of  ‘ formal  ’ in  opposition  to  ‘ eminent.’  Cf.  Note, 

. 28  supra,  also  Open  Court  edition,  p.  244,  Note. 

3 “Meditations,”  III.,  paragraph  n,  Open  Court  edition,  p.  50. 


3° 


Pluralistic  Dualism 


of  anything  whatever,  and  that  the  more  perfect  cannot  arise 
from  the  less  perfect  . . . but  also  that  it  is  impossible  we  can 
have  the  idea  or  representation  of  anything  whatever,  unless 
there  be  somewhere  ...  an  original  which  comprises,  in 
reality,  all  the  perfections  that  are  thus  represented  to  us;  but 
as  we  do  not  in  any  way  find  in  ourselves  those  absolute  per- 
fections of  which  we  have  the  idea,  we  must  conclude  that 
they  exist  in  some  nature  different  from  ours,  that  is,  in  God.” 1 

This  argument  is  of  unquestioned  validity,  if  once  Des- 
cartes’s conception  of  cause  be  accepted,  and  he,  therefore, 
needs  no  other  causal  argument  for  God’s  existence.  None 
the  less,  he  formulates  another  argument,  of  some  complexity, 
to  prove  that  God  must  exist  — not  merely  as  cause  of  my 
idea  of  God  but  as  cause  of  me.  Descartes’s  proof  of  this 
is  by  elimination.  It  is  evident  that  there  must  be  some  cause 
of  me,  and  Descartes  seeks  to  disprove  the  possibility  that  any 
other  being,  save  God,  could  be  the  cause  of  me. 

(1)  I am  not,  in  the  first  place,  cause  of  myself.  For,  if  I 
were,  I must  be  conscious  of  this  causality/whereas  “I  am 
conscious  of  no  such  power,  and  thereby  I manifestly  know 
that  I am  dependent  on  some  being  different  from  myself.” 
Moreover,  “if  I were  myself  the  author  of  my  being  I should 
doubt  of  nothing,  I should  desire  nothing,  and,  in  fine,  no 
perfection  would  be  wanting  to  me;  for  I should  have 
bestowed  upon  myself  every  perfection  of  which  I possess 
the  idea,  and  I should  thus  be  God.”2  Both  these  arguments 
are  based  on  my  immediate  consciousness  of  my  own  limited 
powers  and  defects ; though  the  latter  may  be  derived,  also, 
from  the  principle  that  the  effect  may  be  no  more  perfect 
than  the  cause. 

(2)  It  is  equally  certain  that  no  being  less  perfect  than  God 
could  have  produced  me.  Descartes  argues  this  mainly  on 
two  grounds:  No  finite  being,  in  the  first  place,  can  be  the 

V 1 “Principles,”  Pt.  I.,  Prop.  18. 

v/  2 “Meditations,”  III.,  sixth  paragraph  from  end.  Open  Court  edition, 

'' "PP-  57  and  59. 


The  System  of  Descartes 


3i 


ultimate  cause  of  me,  for  every  finite  being  has  itself  to  be  ex- 
plained by  a cause  outside  itself.  Thus  a finite  being  could 
only  be  the  proximate  or  immediate,  not  the  ultimate,  cause 
of  me ; and  concerning  such  a proximate,  finite,  cause,  Des- 
cartes says,  we  should  rightly  “demand  again  . . . whether 
[it]  exists  of  itself  or  through  some  other,  until,  from  stage  to 
stage,  we  at  length  arrive  at  an  ultimate  cause  which  will  be 
God.”  ^In  the  second  place,  even  granting  that  “some  other 
cause  less  perfect  than  God”  — that  is,,  some  finite  cause  — 
were  the  cause  which  created  me,  it  could  not  be  the  cause 
which  conserves  me  during  every  moment  of  my  conscious 
life.  But  according  to  Descartes’s  conception  of  causality, 
every  real  cause,  it  will  be  remembered,  must  be  a conserving 
cause.  For  the  cessation  of  a cause  would  imply,  Descartes 
says,  that  one  moment  of  time  could  be  dependent  on  a pre- 
vious moment  of  time;  and  this,  he  declares,  is  impossible. 
“The  whole  time  of  my  life,”  he  says,  “may  be  divided  into 
an  infinity  of  parts,  each  of  which  is  in  no  way  dependent  on 
any  other ; and  accordingly,  because  I was  in  existence  a short 
time  ago,  it  does  not  follow  that  I must  now  exist,  unless  in 
this  moment  some  cause  create  me  anew  as  it  were  — that  is, 
conserve  me.”  2 Now  no  finite  cause  can  be  conceived  as 
existing,  not  merely  through  my  life,  but  through  the  life  of 
the  succession  of  finite  beings.3  Therefore  the  conserving 
cause  of  me  must  be  an  infinite,  not  a finite,  cause. 

Evidently  these  different  arguments,  against  the  possibility 
that  a being  less  than  God  has  produced  me,  have  involved 
not  only  the  principle  that  every  limited  reality  has  a cause, 
but  also  the  conviction  that  this  cause  is  more  than  finite  — in 
truth  that  it  is  ultimate,  that  it  is  a conserving  cause,  and  that 
it  is  no  less  perfect  than  its  effect.  This  last  principle  is  at 

1 “Meditations,”  III.,  fifth  paragraph  from  end. 

2 Ibid.,  III.,  sixth  paragraph  from  end,  Open  Court  edition,  p.  58.  Cf. 
“Principles,”  Pt.  I.,  Prop.  21;  and  “Reply  to  Second  Objections,”  Axiom 
II.,  Open  Court  edition,  p.  218. 

3 The  part  of  this  argument  which  is  formulated  in  this  sentence  is  not 
expressly  stated  by  Descartes. 


32 


P luralistic  Dualism 


the  root  of  Descartes’s  argument  against  the  hypothesis  which 
remains  to  be  eliminated.  It  has  been  shown  that  neither  I 
myself  nor  any  being  less  than  God  can  cause  me.  It  is,  how- 
ever, (3)  still  conceivable  that  a group  of  beings,  each  of  them 
less  than  God,  might  produce  me.  Descartes  outlines  this 
possibility  and  argues  against  it  in  the  following  way:  “Nor 
can  it,”  he  says,  “be  supposed  that  several  causes  concurred 
in  my  production,  and  that  from  one  I received  the  idea  of 
one  of  the  perfections  which  I attribute  to  the  Deity,  and  from 
another  the  idea  of  some  other,  and  thus  that  all  those  per- 
fections are  indeed  found  somewhere  in  the  universe,  but  do 
not  all  exist  together  in  a single  being  who  is  God ; for,  on 
the  contrary,  the  unity,  the  simplicity  or  inseparability  of  all 
the  properties  of  Deity,  is  one  of  the  chief  perfections  I con- 
ceive him  to  possess ; and  the  idea  of  this  unity  of  all  the  per- 
fections of  Deity  could  certainly  not  be  put  into  my  mind 
by  any  cause  from  which  I did  not  likewise  receive  the  ideas 
of  all  the  other  perfections ; for  no  power  could  enable  me  to 
embrace  them  in  an  inseparable  unity,  without  at  the  same 
time  giving  me  the  knowledge  of  what  they  were.”  / Ob- 
viously the  heart  of  this  reasoning  is  the  principle  that  a 
cause  must  be  no  less  perfect  than  its  effect.  For  this  reason, 
Descartes  teaches,  no  composite  cause  could  produce  in  me  the 
idea  which  I certainly  have  of  an  infinite  simple  being;  and 
it  follows  that  the  cause  of  me  is  one  ultimate  being,  resem- 
bling in  its  unity,  as  well  as  in  its  other  qualities,  the  idea  of 
itself  that  it  produces  in  me.  This  disproof  of  the  possibility 
that  a group  of  beings  produced  me  of  course  carries  with  it 
the  disproof  of  the  doctrine  that  “my  parents”  caused  me. 
Descartes,  however,  adds,  in  opposition  to  this  doctrine,  the 
statement  that  one’s  parents  are  the  causes  only  of  bodily  dis- 
positions, not  of  mind.2 

Descartes  has,  therefore,  argued  that  neither  I myself,  nor 
any  other  being  less  than  God,  nor  any  group  of  beings,  could 

1 “Meditations,”  III.,  fourth  paragraph  from  end. 

2 Ibid.,  III.,  paragraph  three  from  end. 


The  System  of  Descartes 


33 


have  caused  me.  Only  one  other  cause  of  my  existence  is 
possible.  I must  believe  that  God  exists,  for  every  finite 
"reality  must  have  a cause,  and  only  God  could  cause  that 
5mite  reality,  myself,  of  whose  existence  I am  immediately 
/ertain.1 

In  arguing  for  God’s  existence,  Descartes  has  indicated  his 
conception  of  God’s  nature.  It  is  summed  up  in  the  defini- 
tion of  God  as  “a  Being  . . . absolutely  perfect.”  2 From 
his  absoluteness,  follows  his  entire  self-dependence : he  is  the 
absolute  substance  which  “ stands  in  need  of  no  other  thing 
in  order  to  its  existence.”3  From  his  perfection  follow  the 
positive  characters:  omniscience,  omnipotence,  and  absolute 
goodness.  From  his  absolute  perfection,  also,  according  to 
Descartes,  there  result  three  negative  characters.  These  are 
the  following:  In  the  first  place,  “God  is  not  corporeal  . . . 
for  . . . since  extension  constitutes  the  nature  of  body,  and 
since  divisibility  is  included  in  local  extension,  and  this  indi- 
cates imperfection,  it  is  certain  that  God  is  not  body.”  4 Fur- 
thermore, “God  does  not  perceive  by  means  of  senses.  . . . 
Since  in  every  sense  there  is  passivity  which  indicates  depen- 
dency, we  must  conclude,”  Descartes  says,  “that  God  is  in  no 
manner  possessed  of  senses,  and  that  he  only  understands  and 
wills ; that  he  does  not,  however,  like  us,  understand  and  will 
by  acts  in  any  way  distinct,  but  that  he  always  by  an  act  that 
is  one,  identical,  and  the  simplest  possible,  understands,  wills, 
and  operates  all,  that  is,  all  things  that  in  reality  exist : for  he 
does  not  will  the  evil  of  sin,  seeing  this  is  but  the  negation  of 
being.”  5 From  God’s  perfect  goodness  it  follows,  finally,  that 


1 For  a summary  of  both  causal  arguments,  cf.  “Reply  to  Second  Objec- 
tions,” Prop.  3,  Dem.,  Open  Court  edition,  p.  221. 

2 “Principles,”  Pt.  I.,  Prop.  14.  Cf.  “Meditations,”  V.,  paragraph  3. 

3 “Principles,”  Pt.  I.,  Prop.  51. 

4 Ibid.,  Pt.  I.,  Prop.  23.  The  second  clause  belongs  not  to  the  Latin 
original,  but  to  the  French  translation. 

5 Ibid.  The  French  translation,  in  place  of  the  second  clause  quoted,  has 
the  following:  “Because  our  perceptions  rise  from  impressions  made  upon 
us  from  another  source  ” — i.e.  than  ourselves. 

D 


34 


P luralistic  Dualism 


God  does  not  deceive.  “It  is  impossible,”  Descartes  says, 
“for  him  ever  to  deceive  me,  for  in  all  fraud  and  deceit  there 
is  a certain  imperfection;  and,  although  it  may  seem  that  the 
ability  to  deceive  is  a mark  of  subtlety  or  power,  yet  the  will 
testifies  without  doubt  of  malice  or  weakness ; and  such  ac- 
cordingly cannot  be  found  in  God.”  1 

d.  The  consequence  of  God’s  existence:  the  existence  oj  cor- 
poreal things  and  oj  finite  selves 

Descartes  starts  out  by  doubting  everything.  In  the  doubt 
of  himself  he  finds  the  certainty  of  his  own  existence.  From 
the  existence  of  himself  he  demonstrates,  as  he  believes,  the 
existence  of  an  all-perfect  God.  From  this  certainty  of  the 
existence  of  an  all-powerful  and  absolutely  good  God,  he 
goes  on  to  demonstrate  the  existence  of  corporeal  (or  material) 
things.  He  argues  mainly  from  the  impossibility  that  a good 
God  should  deceive  me.  I doubtless  possess  sense  percep- 
tions, and  I have  a clear  consciousness  that  these  ideas  are 
caused  by  real  objects  external  to  me.  And  as  God  “has 
given  me  ...  a very  strong  inclination  to  believe  that  those 
ideas  arise  from  corporeal  objects,  I do  not  see,”  Descartes 
says,  “how  he  could  be  vindicated  from  the  charge  of  deceit, 
if  in  truth  they  proceeded  from  any  other  source,  or  were  pro- 
duced by  other  causes  than  corporeal  things ; and  accordingly 
it  must  be  concluded,  that  corporeal  objects  exist.”  2 The 
same  argument,  it  may  be  observed,  would  serve  to  prove 
the  existence  of  limited,  or  finite,3  spirits  other  than  myself. 

1 “Meditations,”  IV.,  paragraph  2. 

2 Ibid..,  VI.,  paragraph  9,  Open  Court  edition,  p.  93. 

3 This  term  ‘finite’  is  commonly  applied  to  realities  other  than  God  or 
the  Absolute.  The  use  of  the  expression  ‘finite  spirit’  is,  however,  unfor- 
tunate in  that  it  begs  the  question  of  the  possible  infinitude  of  the  limited, 
the  so-called  finite,  spirit  or  self;  whereas  infinitude,  in  some  sense  of  the 
word,  has  by  more  than  one  philosopher  been  attributed  to  selves  other 
than  the  divine  self.  (Cf.  infra,  Appendix,  p.  523  seq. ; Royce,  “World 
and  Individual,”  I.,  pp.  554  seq.)  To  discuss  the  problem  is  here 
impossible,  for  it  would  involve  a consideration  of  the  exact  meaning 


The  System  of  Descartes 


35 


Descartes  assumes  their  existence,  but  he  might  have  argued 
it.  For  I surely  conceive  the  existence  of  human  beings  as 
clearly  and  distinctly  as  that  of  corporeal  objects,  and  the 
absolutely  good  God  “could  not  be  vindicated  from  the  charge 
of  deceit,”  if  so  distinct  a consciousness  were  a mere  illusion. 

Descartes  has  a second,  though  subordinate,  argument  for 
the  existence  of  corporeal  objects.  It  is  the  argument,  later 
emphasized  by  the  English  philosopher  Locke,  on  which 
most  of  us  depend  when  we  are  challenged  to  prove  the  reality 
of  external  things  — trees  or  stones,  for  instance.  They  must 
exist,  we  say,  else  we  should  never  have  these  perceptions  of 
them.  My  imaginations  I control  as  I will ; even  my  dreams 
are  copies  of  my  previous  experience ; but  my  percepts  force 
themselves  upon  me,  I can  neither  change  nor  modify  them, 
they  are  unavoidable.  Evidently  then  real  objects  must  exist 
outside  me  to  force  on  me  these  impressions  of  themselves. 
Descartes  makes  use  of  this  argument  for  the  reality  of  physical 
things.  I am  directly  conscious  of  “hardness,  heat,  and  the 
other  tactile  qualities,  . . . light,  colors,  odors,  tastes,  and 
sounds.1  And  assuredly,”  he  says,  “it  was  not  without  reason 
that  I thought  I perceived  certain  objects  wholly  different 
from  my  thought,  namely,  bodies  from  which  those  ideas 
proceeded ; for  I was  conscious  that  the  ideas  were  presented 
to  me  without  my  consent  being  required,  so  that  I could  not 
perceive  any  object,  however  desirous  I might  be,  unless  it 
were  present  to  the  organ  of  sense ; and  it  was  wholly  out  of 
my  power  not  to  perceive  it  when  it  was  thus  present.  And 
because  the  ideas  I perceived  by  the  senses  were  much  more 
lively  and  clear,  and  even,  in  their  own  way,  more  distinct 
than  any  of  those  I could  of  myself  frame  by  meditation,  . . . 
it  seemed  that  they  could  not  have  proceeded  from  myself, 

of  infinity.  So  far  as  possible  in  this  book  some  one  of  the  expressions, 
‘limited,’  ‘partial,’  ‘relative,’  or  ‘lesser  spirit’  will  be  used  in  place  of  the 
words  ‘finite  spirit,’  and  the  latter  expression,  when  employed,  must  be  under- 
stood merely  to  mark  out  the  antithesis  between  divine  (or  absolute)  and 
less-than-divine  (or  less-than-absolute). 

1 “Meditations,”  VI.,  paragraph  5. 


36 


Pluralistic  Dualism 


and  must  therefore  have  been  caused  in  me  by  some  other 
objects;  and  as  of  those  objects  themselves  I had  no  knowl- 
edge beyond  what  the  ideas  themselves  gave  me,  nothing  was 
so  likely  to  occur  to  my  mind  as  the  supposition  that  the  ob- 
jects were  similar  to  the  ideas  which  they  had  caused.”  This 
second  argument  for  the  existence  of  material  things  is  based 
on  an  undoubted  fact : that  our  sense  perception  is  forced 
upon  us,  that  we  must  see  and  smell  and  hear  what  we  do. 
It  follows  that  we  do  not  ourselves  voluntarily  cause  these  sense 
perceptions ; and  it  is  evidently  natural  for  us  to  refer  them  to 
corporeal  objects  “wholly  different  from  any  thought.”  Of 
the  real  existence  of  these  objects,  however,  we  can  be  assured 
only  if  we  know  that  our  inferences  are  to  be  trusted  — in 
other  words,  if  we  are  sure  that  God  does  not  deceive  us.  So 
this  second  argument  for  the  existence  of  corporeal  things 
presupposes  the  first  argument.1 

Thus  Descartes  argues  for  the  existence  of  ‘corporeal  ob- 
jects.’ But  precisely  what,  it  must  next  be  asked,  does  he 
mean  by  the  ‘corporeal  object’  ? It  is  natural  to  answer  that 
a corporeal  object,  a material  thing,  is  a real  being  possessed 
of  qualities  corresponding  to  our  sensations : that  a corporeal 
rose,  for  example,  is  red  and  fragrant  and  smooth  and  the  like. 

1 The  second  and  third  sentences  of  the  following  passage  show  that 
Descartes  clearly  understood  the  relation  of  these  two  arguments.  “It 
cannot  be  doubted,”  he  says,  “that  every  perception  we  have  comes  to  us 
from  some  object  different  from  our  mind ; for  it  is  not  in  our  power  to  cause 
ourselves  to  experience  one  perception  rather  than  another,  the  perception 
being  entirely  dependent  on  the  object  which  affects  our  senses.  It  may 
indeed  be  matter  of  inquiry  whether  that  object  be  God  or  something  differ- 
ent from  God ; but  because  we  perceive,  or  rather  — stimulated  by  sense  - — 
clearly  and  distinctly  apprehend,  certain  matter  extended  in  length,  breadth 
and  thickness,  the  various  parts  of  which  . . . give  rise  to  the  sensation  we 
have  of  colors,  smells,  pain,  etc.,  God  would,  without  question,  deserve 
to  be  regarded  as  a deceiver,  if  he  directly  and  of  himself  presented  to  our 
mind  the  idea  of  this  extended  matter,  or  merely  caused  it  to  be  presented  to 
us  by  some  object  which  possessed  neither  extension,  figure,  or  motion.  For 
we  clearly  conceive  this  matter  as  entirely  distinct  from  God,  and  from 
ourselves,  or  our  mind.  . . . But  . . . God  cannot  deceive  us,  for  this  is 
repugnant  to  his  nature.  ...”  (“Principles,”  Pt.  II.,  Prop,  i.) 


37 


The  System  of  Descartes 

Descartes,  however,  teaches  that  the  corporeal  objects  whose 
existence  he  holds  so  certain  are  not  the  colored,  fragrant, 
sounding  things  which  we  believe  ourselves  to  perceive.  On 
the  contrary,  he  says,  real,  material  things  are  simply  ex- 
tended things : they  have  no  color,  or  fragrance,  or  texture, 
or  resistance;  they  have  mere  shape  and  figure  and  extent. 
The  hardness  and  color  and  the  rest,  which  we  no  doubt 
attribute  to  things  outside  us,  really  are  mere  sensations  in  us, 
due  to  the  ‘different  figures  and  motions’ 1 of  extended  bodies. 
“The  nature  of  body,”  Descartes  says,  “consists  not  in 
weight,  hardness,  color,  and  the  like,  but  in  extension  alone 
...  in  its  being  a substance  extended  in  length,  breadth,  and 
height.  ...”  2 The  real  rose,  in  other  words,  has  no  cor- 
poreal qualities  save  its  shape  and  size  and  movement : to 
our  sensations  of  its  redness  and  fragrance  there  correspond 
no  similar  qualities  in  the  rose  itself ; these  sensations  are 
caused  by  modifications  of  the  real  extension  of  bodies,  that 
is  to  say,  the  sensations  are  caused  by  motions  of  the  particles 
of  the  real,  extended  body. 

Thus  the  world  of  external  things,  as  conceived  by  Des- 
cartes, is  a world  of  extended  and  moving,  but  of  uncolored, 
odorless,  soundless  things.  And  different  as  such  a world 
is  from  the  world  of  objects  which  we  suppose  ourselves  to  see 
and  touch,  it  is  — we  must  remember  - — ■ precisely  this  sort  of 
physical  world  which  the  science  of  our  own  time  assumes. 
According  to  the  teaching  of  the  physicists,  our  sensations  of 
light  and  of  color  are  due  to  the  vibrations  of  colorless,  and 
indeed  of  invisible,  ether  waves,  our  sound  sensations  are  pro- 
duced by  moving  air- vibrations,  our  tastes  and  smells  are  due, 
finally,  to  molecular  and  atomic  movements.  The  natu- 
ral science  of  Descartes’s  day  conceived  the  physical  world 
in  a closely  allied  fashion  as  a world  of  extended  bodies  and 
of  moving  particles  — therefore,  Descartes,  in  this  doctrine  of 
extension  as  the  only  quality  of  objects,  is  simply  adopting 

1 Motion,  Descartes  teaches,  is  a mere  modification  of  extension. 

2 “Principles,”  Pt.  II.,  Prop.  4. 


38 


Pluralistic  Dualism 


the  widest  generalization  of  the  science  of  his  time.  But,  of 
course,  Descartes  does  not  make,  without  argument,  the  as- 
sumption that  external  things  have  only  one  quality,  exten- 
sion, and  that  the  other  sensible  qualities  are  mere  sensations 
in  us  produced  by  the  modifications  of  extended  bodies.  He 
offers,  in  fact,  four  arguments  for  this  conclusion,  and  these 
must  now  be  outlined. 

(1)  Descartes  urges,  first,  that  extension  is  the  only  bodily 
attribute  which  is  clearly  apprehended.  By  ‘clear  apprehen- 
sion ’ Descartes  always  means  the  kind  of  consciousness  which 
the  mathematician  has;  and  evidently,  extension  is  the  only 
one  of  the  qualities  of  a body  which  can  be  mathematically 
known.  The  rest,  ‘weight,  color,  and  all  the  other  qualities 
of  this  sort’  are  thought  with  ‘obscurity  and  confusion.’ 

(2)  It  is  certain  also,  Descartes  thinks,  that  the  qualities, 
except  extension,  of  corporeal  substances  are  not  necessary  to 
the  nature  of  body.  “With  respect  to  hardness,”  for  exam- 
ple, “we  know  nothing  of  it  by  sense  farther  than  that  the 
parts  of  hard  bodies  resist  the  motion  of  our  hands  on  com- 
ing into  contact  with  them ; but  if  every  time  our  hands 
moved  towards  any  part,  all  the  bodies  in  that  place  receded 
as  quickly  as  our  hands  approached,  we  should  never  feel 
hardness;  and  yet  we  have  no  reason  to  believe  that  bodies 
which  might  thus  recede  would  on  this  account  lose  that 
which  makes  them  bodies.  The  nature  of  body  does  not, 
therefore,  consist  in  hardness.”1 

(3)  In  the  third  place,  Descartes  points  out,  this  theory 
that  motion  may  produce  in  us  sensations,  of  color,  odor,  and 
the  like,  is  in  accord  with  the  admitted  fact  that  certain  sen- 
sations— those  in  particular  of  pain  and  of  ‘ titillation  ’ — 
are  due  to  moving  things.  “The  motion  merely,”  he  says, 
“of  a sword  cutting  a part  of  our  skin  causes  pain.  And  it  is 
certain  that  this  sensation  of  pain  is  not  less  different  from  the 
motion  that  causes  it  . . . than  are  the  sensations  we  have 


1 “Principles,”  Pt.  II.,  Prop.  4. 


The  System  of  Descartes 


39 


of  color,  sound,  odor,  or  taste.  On  this  ground  we  may  con- 
clude that  our  mind  is  of  such  a nature  that  the  motions  alone 
of  certain  bodies  can  also  easily  excite  in  it  all  the  other  sensa- 
tions, as  the  motion  of  a sword  excites  in  it  the  sensation  of 
pain.”  1 

(4)  It  is  probable,  Descartes  argues  finally,  that  the  re- 
mote, physical  causes  of  sensation  are  movements  of  extended 
things,  since  it  is  everywhere  admitted  that  the  immediate 
physiological,  or  bodily,  conditions  of  all  sensations  are  ‘ local 
motions’  of  the  nerves  and  brain  organs.  There  is  no  reason, 
Descartes  believes,  to  think  “that  anything  at  all  reaches  the 
brain  besides  the  local  motion  of  the  nerves  themselves.  And 
we  see  that  local  motion  alone  causes  in  us  not  only  the  sensa- 
tion of  titillation  and  of  pain,  but  also  of  light  and  sounds. 
For  if  we  receive  a blow  on  the  eye  of  sufficient  force  to  cause 
the  vibration  of  the  stroke  to  reach  the  retina,  we  see  numer- 
ous sparks  of  fire  . . . ; and  when  we  stop  our  ear  with  our 
finger,  we  hear  a humming  sound,  the  cause  of  which  can 
only  proceed  from  the  agitation  of  the  air  that  is  shut  up 
within  it.”  2 

e.  Descartes's  summary  of  his  positive  teaching:  the 
substance  doctrine 

This  account  of  Descartes’s  doctrine  has  followed  mainly 
his  “Meditations.”  In  the  end  of  Part  I.  of  that  later  work, 
the  “Principles  of  Philosophy,”  from  which  quotation  has 
repeatedly  been  made,  Descartes  summarized  and  supple- 
mented his  metaphysical  system,  in  a terminology  resembling 
that  of  mediaeval  philosophy,  as  a doctrine  of  substances. 
This  form  of  his  teaching  must  now  be  outlined,  partly 
because  it  forcibly  restates  the  essentials  of  Descartes’s 
doctrine,  as  already  considered,  partly  because  it  brings 
out  more  clearly  his  conception  of  matter,  and  finally, 

1 “Principles,”  Pt.  IV.,  Prop.  197; , 6 2 Ibid.,  Pt.  IV.,  Prop.  198. 


40 


P luralistic  Dualism 


because  it  is  the  form  in  which  Descartes’s  doctrine  exerted 
a strong  influence  on  the  course  of  philosophical  thought.1 

By  ‘ substance,’  in  the  strict  sense  of  the  term,  is  meant, 
Descartes  says,  “a  thing  which  exists  in  such  a way  as  to  stand 
in  need  of  no  other  thing  in  order  to  its  existence.” 2 
Evidently,  if  substance  be  thus  defined,  “there  can  be  con- 
ceived but  one  substance  . . . and  that  is  God.”  The  abso- 
luteness of  God  is  accordingly  taught  by  Descartes  in  the 
doctrine  that  God  is  Substance. 

But  besides  the  one  absolutely  independent  Substance,  there 
exist  — as  Descartes  believes  that  he  has  found  — realities 
directly  dependent  on  God,  and  these  Descartes  calls  ‘cre- 
ated substances.’  Of  these  there  are  two  sorts,  ‘ corporeal  ’ 
and  ‘ thinking  ’ substances.3  Every  thinking  substance  has  “ one 
principal  property  which  constitutes  its  nature  or  essence,” 
namely  consciousness,  or  ‘thinking.’  Every  corporeal  sub- 
stance also  has  a ‘principal  attribute,’  extension.  “For 
every  other  thing,”  Descartes  says,  “ which  can  be  attributed 
to  body  presupposes  extension.”  Corporeal  as  well  as  think- 
ing things  are  termed  ‘substances’  because  “they  stand  in 
need  of  nothing  but  the  concourse  of  God.”  In  other  words, 
though  dependent  on  God,  they  are  relatively  self-sufficient. 
The  thinking  substance,  myself,  for  example,  is  fundamental 
to,  and  in  this  sense  independent  of,  its  own  thoughts  and 
ideas ; it  is  also  — Descartes  teaches  — independent  of  cor- 
poreal substances.  Our  mind,  he  says,  is  “of  a nature  en- 
tirely independent  of  the  body.”  4 It  must  be  noted  that 
Descartes,  though  he  constantly  refers  to  many  substances, 
also  speaks  of  two  substances  — thought  and  matter.  In  these 
passages,  however,  he  very  clearly  means  by  ‘substance,’ 
kind  or  class  of  substance.  Because  of  a misunderstand- 
ing of  his  teaching  at  this  point,  Descartes  has  sometimes 

1 Cf.  for  less  complete  treatment  of  the  substance  doctrine,  “Medita- 
tions,” VI.,  paragraphs  9-10. 

2 “Principles,”  Pt.  I.,  Prop.  51.  4 “Discourse,”  V.,  last  paragraph 

3 Ibid.,  Prop.  52,  53. 


The  System  of  Descartes 


41 


been  unjustly  accused  of  attributing  a fictitious  reality  to  a 
mere  general  notion.1 

The  belief  that  a created  substance  is  independent  save 
of  God  leads  Descartes,  as  has  appeared,  to  conclude  that 
every  such  created  substance  is  independent  of  every  other, 
and  in  particular  that  any  extended  substance  is  independent 
of  any  thinking  substance,  and  vice  versa.  One  of  the 
corollaries  of  this  doctrine  is  of  especial  importance.  For 
from  the  independence  (save  on  God)  of  each  created  sub- 
stance it  follows  obviously  that  a bodily  organism  is  unin- 
fluenced by  what  is  called  its  soul.  Every  body,  animal  or 
human,  is  consequently  a mere  extended  thing,  a machine 
subject  only  to  mechanical  — or,  more  strictly,  to  mathe- 
matical — laws.  Descartes  does  not  shrink  from  this  con- 
clusion in  its  application  to  animals.  An  animal,  he  teaches, 
is  an  automaton,  a mere  body  without  soul,  a machine  made 
by  the  hands  of  God.  “ Were  there  machines,”  he  says,  “ ex- 
actly resembling  in  organs  and  outward  form  an  ape  and  any 
other  irrational  animal,  we  could  have  no  means  of  knowing 
that  they  were  in  any  respect  of  a different  nature  from  these 
animals.”  2 But  Descartes  could  not  bring  himself  to  regard 
the  human  body  as  utterly  independent  of  spirit.  Both  the 
logic  of  his  substance  doctrine  and  the  analogy  with  his 
teaching  about  animals  require  this  conclusion,  yet  he 
teaches  that  “the  reasonable  soul  ...  is  joined  and 
united  ...  to  the  body,  in  order  to  have  sensations 
and  appetites.”  3 In  perception,  the  soul  is  affected  by  the 
bodily  changes  due  to  the  stimulus  of  external  objects ; and 
by  volition  the  soul  or  spirit  causes  bodily  movements. 
Descartes,  however,  reduces  to  its  lowest  terms  this  influence 
of  body  on  soul  and  of  soul  on  body.  He  teaches  that  the 
soul  affects  only  the  direction,  never  the  amount,  of  bodily 

1 Cf.  “Principles,”  Pt.  I.,  Prop.  9,  for  Descartes’s  doctrine  of  ‘ universals,’ 
or  general  notions. 

2 “Discourse,”  V.,  second  paragraph  from  end,  Open  Court  edition,  p.  60. 

3 “Discourse,”  V.,  last  paragraph,  Open  Court  edition,  p.  632. 


42 


P luralistic  Dualism 


movement ; and  that  the  mind  immediately  influences  the 
body  at  one  small  point  only,  the  pineal  gland  of  the 
brain.1 

A complete  account  of  Descartes’s  teaching  would  in- 
clude at  this  point  a sketch  of  his  philosophy  of  nature. 
Descartes’s  metaphysics  is  so  deeply  spiritualistic  that  the 
student  is  unprepared  for  his  rigidly  mechanistic  conception 
of  the  physical  universe.  The  truth  is,  however,  that  the 
complete  qualitative  dualism  of  Descartes’s  system  (the 
teaching  that  spirit  is  radically  different  from  matter  and 
that  a finite  spirit  is  independent  of  its  body)  left  Descartes 
free  to  conceive  the  physical  universe  as  unhampered  by 
spiritual  law.  It  has  already  appeared  that  he  everywhere 
teaches  that  the  human  body  is  no  more  nor  less  than  a 
machine.2  And  somewhat  as  the  human  body  is  influenced 
at  one  point  only  by  its  spirit  so,  Descartes  teaches,  the 
world  might  conceivably  have  been  created,  once  for  all, 
by  God  as  a chaotic  mass  and  might  have  attained  its  pres- 
ent state  by  the  working  out  of  purely  mechanical  laws. 
“If  God,”  he  says,3  “were  now  to  create  . . . enough 
matter  to  make  the  world,”  in  the  form  of  “a  confused 
chaos,”  and  if  he  were  then  to  “leave  this  chaos  to  act 
according  to  the  laws  which  he  has  established,”  then  this 
chaotic  matter  would  so  dispose  and  order  itself  as  to  form 
planets,  sun,  fixed  stars,  and  earth.  The  result,  Descartes 
concludes,  would  be  “a  world  entirely  similar  to  ours.” 
Not  only  inorganic  bodies  and  plants  but  even  animal 
bodies  might  have  come  into  being  through  the  succession 
of  natural  effects  upon  their  causes.  It  is  unnecessary 
to  point  out  that  this  conception  of  the  possible  continuity 
of  complex  with  simple  organism  and  of  organism  with  in- 
organic form,  is  none  other  than  the  theory  at  the  basis 

1 “Meditations,”  VI. ; cf.  “Les  Passions  de  l’Ame,”  Prem.  Partie,  Art.  31. 

2 Cf.  “Discourse,”  V.,  paragraph  6:  “The  movement  of  the  heart  fol- 
lows as  necessarily  from  the  disposition  of  the  organs  ...  as  that  of  a 
clock  from  the  force,  position,  and  form  of  its  balances  and  wheels.” 

3 Ibid.,  V.,  paragraph  2.  Cf.  “Principles,”  III,  § 45. 


The  System  of  Descartes 


43 


of  modern  evolutionary  science.  And  though  Descartes, 
after  outlining  this  daring  hypothesis,  still  asserts,  in  con- 
formity with  the  teaching  of  the  church,  that  the  world  was 
created  by  God  “from  the  beginning  with  all  its  perfections,” 
we  are  none  the  less  justified  in  agreeing  with  Buffon  that 
“it  is  Descartes  who  takes  the  first  step”  toward  that 
mechanistic  conception  of  the  universe  which  has  mainly 
dominated  natural  science  since  his  day. 

III.  Critical  Estimate  of  Descartes’s  System 

This  study  of  Descartes  has,  up  to  this  point,  concerned 
itself  to  outline  clearly  his  philosophical  theory  and  to  make 
distinct  the  arguments  by  which  he  sought  to  establish  it. 
But  the  student  of  philosophy  has  not  merely  the  task  of 
understanding  a metaphysical  system ; it  is  his  duty,  also,  to 
estimate  it  critically,  to  challenge  its  assertions,  to  scrutinize 
its  arguments.  And  before  this  critical  estimate  is  under- 
taken, a warning  sounded  in  the  preface  of  this  book  must  be 
emphatically  repeated.  Adequate  criticism  at  this  stage  of 
philosophical  study  is  impossible.  If  it  is  true,  as  will  be 
argued,  that  Descartes  did  not  fully  understand,  in  all  their 
bearings,  the  problems  which  he  discussed,  still  more  is  it 
true  that  without  a study  of  other  systems  no  one  is  fitted 
to  criticise  Decartes. 

a.  The  adequate  basis  of  Descartes's  system:  my  existence 

The  writer  of  this  book  believes,  as  firmly  as  Descartes 
believed,  that  I as  conscious  self  exist  and  that  I know  my 
own  existence,  not  only  in  knowing  anything  whatever,  but 
even  in  doubting  everything.  In  a later  chapter  the  effort 
will  be  made  to  show  that  the  critics  who  have  questioned  the 
existence  of  a self  really  have  throughout  implied  and  as- 
sumed it.1  For  the  present  it  will  be  taken  for  granted  that 
the  reader  either  admits  or  grants  for  argument’s  sake  Des- 
cartes’s foundation  teaching  : that  I myself  exist. 

1 Cf.  Chapter  6,  on  Hume,  especially  pp.  179  seq. 


44 


P luralistic  Dualism 


But  while  insisting  on  the  significance  and  the  truth  of  Des- 
cartes’s teaching,  I doubt  and  in  doubting  I exist,  it  is  cer- 
tainly possible  to  criticise,  at  certain  points,  his  conception  of 
the  ‘I’  or  ‘self.’  He  is  right  in  insisting  that  the  nature  of  a 
self  is  to  be  conscious  and  that  any  self  is  more  than  a 
mere  series  of  ideas.  But  he  does  not  adequately  conceive 
the  relation  of  a self,  or  soul,  either  to  external  objects  or  to 
God.  In  particular,  Descartes  assumes  without  discussion 
the  freedom  of  the  self,  or  soul.  He  never  realizes,  or  at 
least  he  never  solves,  the  difficulty  involved  in  conceiving  that 
God  is  all-powerful  and  all-good,  and  yet  that  finite  selves 
have  the  freedom  to  make  mistakes  and  to  commit  sin.1 


b.  Descartes's  inadequate  arguments  for  God's  existence 

From  his  own  existence  Descartes  infers  that  of  an  all-per- 
fect God.  The  arguments  on  which  he  bases  this  conclusion 
must  be  scrutinized  with  special  care,  for  — as  has  been 
shown  — the  existence  of  a perfect  God  is  to  Descartes  the 
warrant  for  all  other  reality.  The  existence  of  God  is  thus, 
as  it  were,  the  second  foundation  stone  of  Descartes’s  system. 
Every  other  conclusion  is  derived,  not  from  the  certainty 
implied  in  every  doubt  of  his  own  existence,  but  from  the 
demonstrated  existence  of  God.2  One  by  one,  therefore,  it 
will  be  wise  to  examine  Descartes’s  arguments  for  God’s 
existence. 

According  to  the  first  of  the  ontological  arguments,3  God  is 
known  to  exist  because  I conceive  him  as  clearly  as  I con- 
ceive myself.  Obviously  the  argument  involves  the  follow- 

1 For  fuller  discussion  of  the  nature  of  a self,  cf.  Chapters  4,  5,  6,  7,  and 
especially  11,  pp.  116  seq.,  179  seq.,  229  seq.,  and  407  seq. 

2 The  course  of  the  argument  may  be  schematically  represented  thus:  — ■ 

Myself 


The  System  of  Descartes 


45 


ing  premises : (i)  that  God  is  clearly  conceived  and  (2)  that 
clear  conception  is  a guarantee  of  truth.  The  argument 
is  sometimes  criticised  by  challenging  the  assertion  that  God 
can  be  clearly  and  distinctly  conceived.  Indeed,  Descartes 
himself  admits  that  he  may  not  comprehend  the  nature  of 
God,  though  in  the  same  breath  he  says  that  we  “know 
clearly”  God’s  perfections.1 2  But  whatever  the  outcome  of 
this  criticism,  it  will  become  evident  that  the  second 
premise  of  the  argument  is  of  doubtful  validity.  The  best 
clue  to  Descartes’s  meaning  is  gained  by  considering  his 
two  examples  of  an  object  of  clear  conception’ : (1)  myself 
and  (2)  a mathematical  truth,  such  as  2+3  = 5.  Now  it 
has  already  appeared  that  I assert  my  own  existence  on 
the  ground  that  it  is  implied  in  the  doubt  or  denial  of  it. 
Similarly,  I am  sure  of  the  existence,  that  is  of  the  actual 
occurrence  in  my  thought,  of  a mathematical  judgment  or  of 
a mathematical  idea  (for  example,  the  concept  of  a triangle) 
or  indeed  of  any  idea  ; and  I have  this  certainty  because  the 
judgment  or  the  idea  perforce  ‘occurs’  to  me  while  I am 
doubting  or  denying  it.  There  is,  it  is  true,  another  type 
of  mathematical  certainty  : I am  sure  that  (2+3)  equals  5, 
not  6 or  7,  because  I am  directly  conscious  of  the  identity  of 
(2+3)  and  5.  But  the  assertion,  that  God  exists,  obviously 
has  not  the  certainty  attaching  to  an  identical  proposition, 
nor  is  the  existence  of  God  directly  implied  in  the  denial 
of  it.  Therefore,  whatever  the  sense  in  which  Descartes 
is  clearly  and  distinctly  conscious  of  God,  such  consciousness 
is  not  parallel  with  the  clear  conception  of  myself  and  of 
mathematical  truths  and  cannot,  on  the  sole  ground  of 
this  analogy,  be  supposed  to  imply  the  existence  of  God.3 

1 “Principles,”  Pt.  I.,  Prop.  19.  Cf.  “Meditations,”  III.,  eighth  para- 
graph from  end,  Open  Court  edition,  p.  55s. 

2 Cf.  “ Meditations,”  III.,  paragraph  3,  end  : “No  one  will  ever  yet  be  able 
to  bring  it  about  that  I am  not,  so  long  as  I shall  be  conscious  that  I am,  or  . . . 
[to]  make  two  and  three  more  or  less  than  five,  in  supposing  which  . . ab- 
surdities I discover  a manifest  contradiction.” 

3 It  is  possible  that  Descartes  urged  these  considerations,  not  as  an  argu- 


46 


P luralistic  Dualism 


According  to  the  second  ontological  argument,  God  is 
known  to  exist  because  the  conception  of  God  is  that  of  an  all- 
perfect being,  and  because  perfection  — that  is,  complete- 
ness — means  the  possession  of  all  attributes,  therefore  of 
existence.1  A strong  objection  may  be  brought  forward  to 
this  teaching.  The  argument,  it  may  be  said,  makes  too 
little  of  the  distinction  between  conception  (or  idea)  and  exist- 
ence. Unquestionably  the  idea  of  God  includes  the  idea  of 
really-existing,  but  the  idea  of  real  existence,  like  any  other 
idea,  does  not,  it  is  pointed  out,  carry  with  it  actual  existence. 
I may,  for  instance,  carry  out  in  imagination  the  demonstra- 
tion of  a geometrical  proposition  concerning  the  angles  of  a 
triangle.  But  though  I clearly  visualize  a perfect  triangle, 
this  does  not  prove  that  the  triangle  has  actual  existence. 
So,  though  Descartes  is  right  in  the  teaching  that  the  idea  of 
existence  belongs  to  the  idea  of  God  as  certainly  as  the  idea  of 
equality  to  two  right  angles  “is  comprised  in  the  idea  of  a 
triangle,”  he  may,  nevertheless,  be  unjustified  in  his  con- 
clusion that  the  idea  of  an  existing  God  inevitably  implies  an 
existing  God. 

It  would  be  unjust  to  Descartes  to  suppose  that  this  diffi- 
culty did  not  occur  to  him.  “Though,”  he  says,  “I  cannot 
conceive  a God  unless  as  existing  any  more  than  I can  a 
mountain  without  a valley,  yet,  just  as  it  does  not  follow 
that  there  is  any  mountain  in  the  world  merely  because  I con- 
ceive a mountain  with  a valley,  so  likewise,  though  I conceive 
God  as  existing,  it  does  not  seem  to  follow  on  that  account 
that  God  exists;  for  my  thought  imposes  no  necessity  on 
things.  . . .” 2 It  will  be  admitted  that  the  difficulty  could 
not  be  more  adequately  stated,  but  Descartes’s  answer  is  not 
equally  satisfactory.  It  is  most  clearly  formulated  in  his 


ment  for  the  existence  of  God,  but  as  a psychological  explanation  of  our 
conviction  of  his  existence.  This  view  (suggested  to  me  by  Professor  M.  S. 
Case)  is  borne  out  by  the  fact  that  Descartes  does  not  employ  the  argument 
in  his  “Reply  to  the  Second  Objections.” 

1 Cf.  supra,  p.  26.  2 “Meditations,”  V.,  paragraph  4. 


The  System  of  Descartes 


47 


“Reply  to  the  Second  Objections  to  the  Meditations.”  1 Here 
he  says,  “In  the  idea  or  concept  of  a thing  existence  is  con- 
tained because  we  are  unable  to  conceive  anything  unless 
under  the  form  of  a thing  which  exists ; but  with  this  differ- 
ence that,  in  the  concept  of  a limited  thing,  possible  or  con- 
tingent existence  is  alone  contained,  and  in  the  concept 
of  a being  sovereignly  perfect,  perfect  and  necessary  existence 
is  included.”  Thus  Descartes  argues  the  existence  of  God, 
not  on  the  ground  that  the  idea  of  mere  existence  implies 
actual  existence,  but  on  the  ground  that  the  idea  of  necessary 
existence  implies  actual  existence.  Now  no  finite  thing  of 
which  I have  an  idea  has  more  than  contingent  existence,  for 
I can  always  imagine  that  such  a finite  thing  was  never 
created ; for  example,  I can  imagine  a demon  without  know- 
ing that  he  exists.  But  it  is  impossible  to  conceive  the  neces- 
sarily existing  being  as  perhaps  non-existent.  In  other  words, 
Descartes  here  teaches  that  the  idea  of  God-as-existing  differs 
from  the  idea  of  a finite-thing-as-existing,  — say,  the  idea  of  a 
mountain,  — since  to  the  idea  of  a finite  thing  belongs  merely 
the  idea  of  contingent,  created  existence,  whereas  to  the  idea  of 
God  belongs  that  of  necessary  existence.  But  this  argument 
merely  pushes  back  the  difficulty  without  meeting  it.  My 
idea  of  God  does  indeed,  as  Descartes  shows,  differ  from  my 
ideas  of  finite  things  herein,  that  it  includes  the  idea,  not  of 
possible,  but  of  necessary,  existence.  But  my  idea  of  God 
none  the  less  can  contain  only  the  idea  of  necessary  existence ; 
.in  other  words,  from  my  idea,  even  of  the  necessarily  existing, 
actjual  necessary  existence  cannot  be  directly  inferred.2 

There  remain  Descartes’s  causal  arguments  for  the  exist- 
ence of  God.  I The  first  of  these,  it  will  be  remembered, 
urges  that  God  must  exist  on  the  ground  that  I possess  the 

1 Axiom  X.,  Open  Court  edition,  pp.  219-220. 

2 Descartes  does  not  deny  this  conclusion  with  respect  to  other  “true 
ideas  which  were  born  with  me.”  (Cf.  “Meditations,”  V.,  paragraph  5, 
near  end.)  For  a fuller  statement  of  this  criticism  on  Descartes,  cf.  infra, 
Chapter  7,  pp.  247  seq.  For  an  outline  of  a metaphysically  valid  form  of 
the  ontological  argument,  cf.  Chapter  n,  pp.  418  seq. 


48 


Pluralistic  Dualism 


idea  of  God  and  that  God  only  could  cause  this  idea  in  mj 
mind.1  This  argument,  as  was  shown,  involves  three  as- 
sumptions. The  first  of  these,  that  every  phenomenon  has 
some  cause,  may  be  admitted.2  The  second  and  third  as- 
sumptions are  these : that  the  ultimate  cause  of  every  finite 
reality  must  be  (a)  ‘formal’  — that  is,  not-idea — and  (b)  no 
less  perfect  than  its  effect.  It  should  be  noted  that  Des- 
cartes admits  the  existence  of  finite  causes  which  are  ‘ objec- 
tive ’ and  are  also  unlike  their  effects.  And  our  experience 
confirms  his  admission.  On  the  one  hand,  my  fear  may  be 
due  to  my  imaged  idea  of  a burglar,  and  my  resolve  to  walk 
to  the  city,  to  my  anticipated  need  of  coal.  And  on  the 
other  hand,  observation  furnishes  us  with  countless  examples 
of  a cause  unlike  the  effect.3  Descartes  himself  points  out, 
in  another  connection,4  that  corporeal  motion  has  effects  so 
unlike  itself  as  sensations  of  sound,  color,  and  pain.  But  in 
spite  of  the  frequent  occurrence  of  finite  causes  which  are 
mere  ideas,  Descartes  is  justified  in  the  teaching  that  an 
ultimate,  a self-sufficient,  cause  could  not  be  mere  idea,  for 
an  idea  is,  as  he  might  say,  a ‘ mode  ’ not  a ‘ substance  ’ ; 
that  is,  the  occurrence  of  an  idea  implies  the  existence  of 
some  being  ‘ whose  ’ the  idea  is.  Similarly,  in  spite  of  in- 
stances of  causes  unlike  effects,  Descartes  is  right  in  holding 
that  an  ultimate,  or  ‘ total,’  cause  must  be  as  perfect  as  its 
effect.3  “ An  idea,”  he  says,  “ may  give  rise  to  another 
idea  ” but  “ we  must  in  the  end  reach  a . . . cause  in 
which  all  the  reality  that  is  found  objectively  in  these  ideas 
is  contained  formally.”  It  is  however  evident,  on  Descartes’s 

1 Cf.  pp.  28-30. 

2 For  discussion,  cf.  Chapter  5,  “ The  System  of  Hume,”  pp.  153  seq. 

3 Cf.  James,  “ Principles  of  Psychology,”  I.,  pp.  136  seq.  Descartes,  it 
is  true,  admits  that  a cause  (and  in  particular  the  1 first  and  total  cause  ’) 
may  be  ‘eminently’  as  well  as  ‘formally’  like  its  effect:  in  other  words, 
that  it  may  possess  properties  corresponding  to  those  of  the  effect  but  supe- 
rior to  them.  But  this  is  virtually  to  yield  the  principle  of  the  likeness  of 
effect  to  cause.  Cf.  supra,  p.  28,  note. 

4 Cf.  supra,  p.  38. 


The  System  of  Descartes 


49 


own  admission,  that  before  he  can  prove  that  God  exists 
actually,  and  not  merely  in  idea,  and  that  God  has  attributes 
corresponding  with  those  of  the  idea  of  God,  he  must  prove 
that  an  ultimate  cause  of  every  finite  reality  necessarily 
exists.  It  will  be  pointed  out,  in  the  following  pages,  that 
Descartes  does  not  fully  establish  this  proposition. 

Descartes’s  last  ‘ proof  ’ argues  for  a God  as  necessary  cause 
of  myself.1  To  this  end  Descartes  attempts  to  disprove 
successively  the  possibilities  that  I myself,  that  any  other  being 
less  perfect  than  God,  and  that  any  group  of  beings  could  have 
produced  me.  In  the  first  of  the  subordinate  conclusions  of 
this  argument  by  elimination,  Descartes,  in  the  opinion  of 
the  writer,  is  correct.  It  is  indeed  impossible  to  hold  in  the 
face  of  my  utter  unconsciousness  of  such  a relation,  that  I 
cause  myself. 

Descartes  next  argues,  it  will  be  remembered,  that  a being 
less  than  God  could  not  have  caused  me.2  For  this  conclu- 
sion, he  offers  two  arguments,  of  which  the  less  important  is 
the  statement  that  no  being,  less  perfect  than  God,  could  be 
the  permanent  and  preserving  — • or,  in  Descartes’s  term,  the 
conserving  — cause  of  me.  This  argument  assumes  (i)  that 
everything  has  not  merely  a cause,  but  a conserving  cause, 
which  exists  along  with  its  effect;  and  (2)  that  finite  causes 
cannot  be  conserving  causes.  But  the  first  of  these  positions 
cannot  be  sustained.  It  is  not  clear  that  every  cause  must  be 
a conserving  cause.  The  friction  of  two  bits  of  wood  may 
light  a fire  which  goes  on  burning  long  after  the  sticks  have 
been  thrown  aside.  In  fact,  the  combustion  of  every  mo- 
ment may  be  said  to  have  its  cause  in  the  conditions  of  the 
preceding  moment.  Observation  thus  substantiates  what 
Descartes  names  impossible : the  dependence  of  one  moment, 
and  its  content,  on  a previous  moment  and  the  content^  of 
the  earlier  moment.  There  is  no  need,  then,  to  examine  the 
assumption  that  finite  causes  may  not  be  conserving  causes, 

1 Cf.  injra,  p.  30  seq. 

£ 


2 Ibid. 


50 


Pluralistic  Dualism 


since  Descartes  has  failed  to  prove  the  necessity  of  the  con- 
serving cause. 

Descartes  argues  finally  that  God,  and  no  being  less  than 
God,  must  be  cause  of  me,  since  — as  he  teaches  — every 
finite  reality  must  have  an  ultimate  cause  and  since  no  finite 
being  can  be  ultimate.  Evidently,  this  argument  is  further 
reaching  than  the  others.  For  if  it  be  true  that  there  exists  an 
ultimate  cause,  then  from  its  ultimacy  we  may  argue  (what 
Descartes  has  not  succeeded  in  proving  directly)  that  it  is  a 
conserving  cause  and  an  all-perfect  being.  It  is  necessary, 
therefore,  to  examine  the  argument  with  especial  care.  Des- 
cartes is,  in  the  first  place,  unquestionably  right  in  insisting 
that  every  finite  reality,  because  finite,  has  itself  a cause,  and 
that  it  is,  therefore,  incomplete,  dependent  — in  a word,  not 
ultimate.  For,  as  he  recognizes,  only  a self-sufficient  being 
can  be  ultimate.  The  cogency  of  his  argument  turns,  there- 
fore, on  the  validity  of  its  major  premise,  ‘every  finite  reality 
must  have  an  ultimate  cause.’  If  this  be  true,  then  there  must 
indeed  exist  an  ultimate  cause  of  me,  who  am  a finite  being. 
We  turn,  therefore,  to  the  reasoning  by  which  Descartes  seeks 
to  establish  this  proposition.  We  find  him  arguing  for  an 
ultimate  cause  which  is  also  a first  cause.  There  must  be  a 
first  cause  of  me  — this  is  the  implication  of  his  argument  — 
for  if  the  cause  of  me  were  finite,  it  also  would  require  a cause, 
finite  or  infinite.  And  if  the  cause  of  the  cause  of  me  were 
finite,  it  too  would  require  a cause,  finite  or  infinite;  and  so 
on  ad  infinitum.  And  such  an  ‘infinite  regress,’  Descartes 
holds,  is  impossible ; 1 hence  there  must  be  a first  cause,  that 
is,  an  uncaused  cause,  which  is  self-caused,  self-sufficient, 
ultimate.  The  difficulties  with  this  argument  are  the  follow- 
ing : In  the  first  place,  the  conception  of  a first  cause  involves 

1 Cf.  “Meditations,”  III.,  paragraphs  5 and  6 from  end,  Open  Court  edi- 
tion, pp.  59-60.  The  specific  reason  which  Descartes  urges  against  the  infi- 
nite regress  is  that  so  there  would  be  no  conserving  cause.  (It  has  been 
shown  already  that  he  has  no  right  to  the  argument,  since  he  has  not  suc- 
ceeded in  proving  that  the  finite  reality  must  have  a conserving  cause.) 


The  System  of  Descartes 


5i 


a contradiction.  For  that  which  is  first  is,  by  hypothesis,  a 
temporal  reality,  and  it  is  the  nature  of  everything  temporal 
to  be  necessarily  connected  with  a past  as  with  a future;  in 
other  words,  when  we  proceed  ‘from  stage  to  stage’  in  a tem- 
poral series,  we  must  conceive  it  as  extending  endlessly  and 
have  no  reason  to  assume  any  first  cause.  And  in  the  second 
place,  so  long  as  we  think  of  the  cause  of  a finite  reality  as 
belonging  to  a temporal,  or  indeed  to  an  anywise  conditioned 
series,  we  have  no  right  to  conceive  it  as  ultimate,  or  self- 
sufficient,  for  every  term,  even  the  first  term,  of  a series  is  in 
some  sense  conditioned  by  all  the  others,  whereas  an  ultimate 
cause  must  be  unconditioned.  Descartes’s  conception  of  a 
first  cause  which  is  ultimate  is  really  therefore  an  attempt  to 
combine  the  irreconcilable. 

We  must  conclude  that  Descartes  has  not  proved,  from  the 
alleged  impossibility  of  an  endless  series,  that  a finite  reality 
must  have  an  ultimate  cause.  He  has,  however,  made  defi- 
nite the  conception  of  a self-sufficient,  an  ultimate  cause;  and 
he  has  apprehended,  more  by  insight  than  by  reasoning,  that 
the  ultimate  is  implied  by  the  finite,  the  unlimited  by  the 
limited.  Later  thinkers  will  establish  this  insight,  will  argue 
cogently  for  the  existence  of  an  ultimate  reality,  which  is  not 
indeed  first,  or  temporal,  cause,  but  which  is  yet  ground  or 
explanation  of  me.1 

vWe  have  reached,  then,  the  last  stage  of  Descartes’s  argu- 

1 This  criticism  of  Descartes  has  revealed  the  fact  that  there  are  two 
conceptions  of  cause.  According  to  one  of  these,  a cause  (whatever  else 
it  is)  is  the  temporally  prior;  according  to  the  second,  a cause  (whatever 
else  it  is)  is  the  adequate  explanation  or  ground.  (A  cause  in  this  sense, 
if  ultimate,  cannot,  as  has  just  been  argued,  be  a temporal  event.)  In  the 
opinion  of  the  writer  it  is  more  convenient  to  apply  the  term  ‘cause’  exclu- 
sively to  the  temporal  event,  since  there  are  other  terms  — as  reality  and 
substance  — to  express  what  is  meant  by  cause  in  the  other  sense.  It  will 
later  appear  that  Hume  invariably  means  by  ‘cause’  a temporal  event;  that 
Berkeley  employs  the  term  only  in  the  second  sense;  and  that  Kant  and 
Spinoza  carefully  distinguish  the  two  meanings,  but  employ  the  word  in  both. 
Cf.  infra,  pp.  210,  258,  260  seq.,  and  299  seq.  Cf.  also  A.  E.  Taylor,  “Ele- 
ments of  Metaphysics,”  pp.  165  seq. 


52 


Pluralistic  Dualism 


ment,  his  attempted  disproof  of  the  possibility  that  “several 
causes  concurred  in  my  production.”1  To  this,  Descartes 
makes  the  objection  that  a combination  of  causes  could  not 
possibly  have  endowed  me  with  the  idea,  which  I possess,  of 
God’s  unity.  But  the  assumption  made  by  this  argument 
surely  is  not  beyond  challenge.  Not  only  have  we  instances 
of  a composition  of  mechanical  causes  followed  by  simple 
effect,  but,  by  Descartes’s  own  admission,  I have  the  con- 
sciousness of  myself  as  one.  Granting  then  that  I had  gained 
from  different  ‘causes’  all  the  other  parts  of  my  conception 
of  God  I might  conceivably  add  to  these  the  idea  of  unity 
gained  from  self-observation.  Descartes  does  not  even 
consider  this  possibility. 

All  Descartes’s  arguments,  ontological  and  causal,  for  the 
existence  of  God  have  thus  been  reviewed  (with  the  acknowl- 
edgment that  criticism  at  this  early  stage  of  philosophical 
study  is,  in  the  nature  of  the  case,  inadequate).  If  the  criti- 
cisms on  these  arguments  are  valid,  it  results  that  the  argu- 
ments, as  they  stand,  do  not  prove  the  existence  of  God.  Of 
course  it  by  no  means  follows  that  God  does  not  exist,  for  it 
is  always  possible  that  a correct  doctrine  is  based  on  an  in- 
valid argument ; and  it  is  even  possible  that  Descartes’s 
reasoning  was  more  cogent  than  his  formulation  of  it.  Thus 
the  writer  of  this  book  questions  the  validity  and  the  ade- 
quacy of  Descartes’s  doctrine  as  he  states  it,  yet  agrees  with 
him,  not  only  in  a general  way  in  his  conception  of  God’s 
nature  and  in  the  conviction  that  it  is  possible  to  establish 
the  truth  of  God’s  existence,  but  in  the  conviction  that  God 
is  necessarily  the  existing  explanation  of  the  universe.2 

c.  Descartes's  inadequate  arguments  for  the  existence  of  other  ■ 
finite  realities 

The  admission  of  the  failure  of  Descartes’s  argument  to 
prove  the  existence  of  God  carries  with  it  consequences  of 


1 Cf.  supra,  p.  32. 


2 Cf.  especially  Chapters  10  and  11. 


The  System  of  Descartes 


53 


the  gravest  import  to  Descartes’s  system.  For  on  the  truth 
of  God’s  existence  depends,  for  Descartes,  the  truth  that 
spirits,  other  than  myself,  and  external  objects  exist.  He  ar- 
gues the  existence  of  spirits  and  objects  alike,  on  the  ground 
of  God’s  veracity ; and  his  argument  loses  all  its  force  if  the 
very  existence  of  a veracious  God  is  uncertain. 

There  are  other  reasons  for  rejecting  Descartes’s  attempt 
to  prove  the  existence  of  material  things  from  the  veracity 
of  God.  For  Descartes  himself  impugns  the  veracity  of  God 
by  admitting  that  we  are  deceived  in  our  belief  that  external 
objects  are  not  merely  extended,  but  colored,  fragrant,  and 
tangible  as  well.  To  be  sure,  he  attempts  to  reconcile  the 
inconsistency  by  insisting  that  we  are  not  clearly  and  dis- 
tinctly conscious  of  any  qualities  save  extension  ; and  by  ad- 
mitting that  God  allows  us  to  be  in  error  in  the  case  of  our 
obscure  and  confused  consciousness : We  are  often,  Des- 
cartes admits,  at  fault  in  our  judgments  about  the  color, 
the  fragrance,  or  the  texture  of  objects,  but  we  have,  he 
insists,  a clear  geometrical  knowledge  of  their  space  rela- 
tions. We  have,  for  instance,  a clear  and  distinct  concep- 
tion of  the  cubic  contents  of  an  object,  whereas  we  are  not 
certain  how  to  name  the  color.  But  this  attempted  recon- 
ciliation will  not  bear  analysis.  The  peculiar  certainty  of 
mathematical  propositions  has  already  appeared 1 to  be  of 
two  types : (i)  I am  certain  that  a mathematical  truth 
exists  in  the  sense  that  I am  actually  conscious  of  it ; 
and  (2)  I am  certain  that  one  mathematical  quantity  is 
identical  with  another.  But  both  these  kinds  of  ‘clear 
conception’  and  consequent  certainty  have  to  do  with  ideas, 
not  with  corporeal  realities.  And  from  the  fact  that  I 
have  a clear  idea  of  a cubic  content  it  no  more  follows 
that  the  cubic  content  corporeally  exists  than  it  follows 
from  my  idea  (confused  or  clear)  of  green  color  that  the 
color  corporeally  exists.  In  the  second  place,  it  may  be 


1 Cf.  page  45,  supra. 


54 


Pluralistic  Dualism 


objected  that  if  any  of  our  errors  imply  God’s  deceitfulness, 
then  all  must  imply  it.  For,  according  to  Descartes,  God  is 
our  creator  and  is  thus  responsible  alike  for  our  indistinct 
and  for  our  distinct  apprehension.1  In  truth,  Descartes’s 
argument  proves  too  much.  He  cannot  well  be  right  both 
in  the  teaching  that  we  cannot  be  mistaken  in  supposing  that 
material  things  exist,  and  in  the  doctrine  that  we  must  be 
mistaken  in  supposing  that  material  things  are  colored  and 
tangible. 

d.  The  inadequacy  oj  Descartes'1  s qualitative  dualism 

One  general  difficulty  with  Descartes’s  teaching  has  already 
been  pointed  out:  it  was  the  first  to  trouble  his  immediate 
successors;  and  indeed  it  constitutes  one  of  the  fundamental 
issues  of  philosophy.  This  is  the  problem  of  the  relation 
between  ‘a  spirit’  and  what  is  called  ‘its  body.’  Descartes, 
it  will  be  remembered,  teaches  that  a spiritual  substance  and 
an  extended  substance  are  realities  utterly  independent  of  each 
other.  And  yet  he  teaches  that  bodily  conditions,  for  instance 
the  changes  of  the  retina  in  the  light,  affect  the  mind  with  per- 
ception; that  the  mind  by  willing  causes  conditions  in  the 
pineal  gland  which  result  in  the  altered  direction  of  muscular 
movement ; and  that  God,  who  is  an  incorporeal  being,  pro- 
duces matter.  It  is  evident  that  such  interaction  between 
minds  and  bodies  is  quite  incompatible  with  the  asserted 
independence  of  the  spiritual  and  the  corporeal.  Either  a 
spirit  and  a body  do  not  really  affect  each  other,  — but  in  that 
case  God  could  not  create  corporeal  objects,  and  objects 
could  not  cause  perceptions,  and  the  will  could  have  no  effect 
on  bodily  movements,  — or  there  are  not,  after  all,  two  entirely 

1 Descartes’s  explanation  of  the  occurrence  of  error,  in  spite  of  God’s 
goodness,  is,  briefly,  the  following:  Finite  beings  have  free  will,  and  when 
their  will  occupies  itself  with  subjects  beyond  the  limits  of  the  finite  under- 
standing, “it  readily  falls  into  error”  (“Meditations,”  III.,  paragraphs  7-9, 
Open  Court  edition,  pp.  67,  69).  The  main  difficulty  with  this  doctrine  is 
the  fact  that  Descartes  fails  even  to  recognize  the  problem  of  reconciling 
human  freedom  with  God’s  infinite  power. 


The  System  of  Descartes 


55 


independent  sorts  of  reality.  The  attempt  to  reconcile  these 
concepts  forms  the  starting  point  of  the  philosophies  im- 
mediately succeeding  on  that  of  Descartes,  all  of  them  strongly 
influenced  by  his  teaching.1 

Other  criticisms,  some  of  them  trivial  or  unjustified,  some 
well  founded,  have  been  made  on  the  system  of  Descartes. 
It  is  not,  however,  necessary  to  consider  these  criticisms  of 
detail,  seeing  that  there  is,  as  has  been  shown,  good  reason  to 
impugn  the  completeness  or  the  cogency  of  the  arguments 
by  which  Descartes  seeks  to  demonstrate  the  existence  of  God, 
and  with  it  the  existence  of  the  world  outside  me.  Such  a 
negative  estimate  of  the  decisiveness  of  Descartes’s  argument 
is  entirely  consistent  with  a deep  conviction  of  the  value  of 
Descartes’s  contribution  to  philosophy.  His  most  significant 
achievement  is  his  vigorous  teaching  that  the  existence  of  a 
self  is  immediately  certain  and  implied  in  every  doubt ; and 
that  philosophical  inference  must  start  from  this  certainty. 
The  defects  of  his  system  are  due  to  his  abandonment  of  this 
starting  point  and  to  his  adoption  of  other  foundation  prin- 
ciples — - for  example,  the  alleged  criterion  of  ‘ clear  thought  ’ 
and  the  uncritically  assumed  law  of  causality.  But  even  Des- 
cartes’s defective  arguments  have  at  least  the  merit  of  stating 
clearly  inevitable  problems  of  philosophy.  He  formulates, 
in  enduring  outlines,  a qualitatively  dualistic,  numerically 
pluralistic,  theistic  system.  He  conceives  the  universe  as 
made  up  of  finite  beings,  either  spiritual  or  corporeal,  in  sub- 
ordination to  an  Infinite  Spirit,  God.  He  holds  this  doc- 
trine neither  as  an  unsubstantiated  insight,  nor  as  a revealed 
truth,  but  as  a result  of  philosophic  reasoning.  Even  when 
this  reasoning  proves  unsatisfactory,  Descartes  does  good 
service  by  so  clearly  stating  the  issues  involved.  Succeeding 
systems,  as  will  appear,  have  their  starting  point  in  the  attack 
on  some  one  of  Descartes’s  vulnerable  positions,  or  in  the 
development  of  the  truth  inherent  in  some  one  of  his  faulty 
arguments. 

1 Cf.  Chapters  3 and  4,  especially  pp.  56  and  72. 


CHAPTER  III 


PLURALISTIC  MATERIALISM:  THE  SYSTEM  OF 
HOBBES1 

“II  fut  loue  et  blame  sans  mesure;  la  plupart  de  ceux  qui  ne  peuvent 
entendre  son  nom  sans  fremir,  n’ont  pas  lu  et  ne  sont  pas  en  etat  de 
lire  une  page  de  ses  ouvrages.”  — Diderot. 

I.  The  Materialistic  Doctrine  of  Hobbes 

Modern  philosophy,  as  has  appeared,  starts  from  the 
qualitatively  dualistic  standpoint  natural  to  the  stage  of  life 
at  which  reflection  begins,  but  it  is  almost  inevitably  led  to 
the  correction  of  this  dualism.  The  difficulty  inherent  in 
qualitatively  dualistic  systems  such  as  those  of  Descartes  and 
of  Locke  is  clearly  the  following : Granted  that  reality  is  of 
two  fundamentally  unrelated  kinds,  spiritual  and  material, 
how  does  it  happen  that  an  individual  of  the  one  sort  has  an 
influence  on  an  individual  of  the  other?  Why  do  material 
things  affect  a mind  so  as  to  produce  sensations,  and  why  does 
a mind  induce  voluntary  movements  in  a body,  if  — as 
Descartes  teaches  — material  substance  is  independent  of 
any  spiritual  substance  save  only  God  ? Must  not  we  even 
ask  how  God,  a spiritual  substance,  can  create  or  influence 
material  things,  if  spirits  and  material  realities  are  totally 
unrelated  ? The  difficulty  thus  involved  in  asserting  on  the 
one  hand  the  unrelatedness,  on  the  other  the  necessary  relation, 
of  minds  and  bodies,  is  the  problem  met  by  the  systems  of 
qualitative  monism.  These  systems  remove  the  source  of 
the  difficulty  by  denying  the  twofold  nature  of  reality. 
Bodies  and  minds,  they  declare,  affect  each  other  simply 

1 Materialism,  like  idealism,  is  a form  of  qualitative  monism.  The 
term  ‘materialism’  is  used  for  simplicity  in  place  of  the  fuller  expression, 
‘qualitatively  monistic  materialism.’ 

56 


The  System  of  Hobbes 


57 


because  they  are  inherently  one  in  nature;  the  apparent 
unlikeness  is  subordinate  to  a real  unity. 

Two  main  forms  of  monism  are  logically  possible.  The 
monist  may  teach  that  all  realities  are  ultimately  ideal,  that  is, 
of  the  nature  of  consciousness ; or  he  may  teach  that  all  reali- 
ties are  fundamentally  non-ideal,  not  of  the  nature  of  con- 
sciousness and  existing  independently  of  any  selves  or  any 
ideas.  Of  non-idealism  also  there  are  two  forms.  Ultimate 
and  non-ideal  reality  may  be  conceived  as  material,  that  is,  as 
partaking  of  a character  (or  of  several  characters)  of  the  phys- 
ical universe  — it  may  be  conceived,  for  example,  as  motion 
or  as  energy;  or  ultimate  reality  may  be  conceived  as  an 
unknown  reality,  neither  ideal  nor  material,  but  manifested 
both  in  minds  and  in  bodies.  The  earliest  of  English  philoso- 
phers, Thomas  Hobbes,  better  known  for  his  philosophy  of 
government  than  for  his  metaphysics,  developed  a striking 
system  of  materialism.  In  truth,  his  inimitably  vigorous 
treatises,  both  philosophical  and  political,  breathed  a defiance 

or~traditional  beliefs  in  curious  contrast  to  his  personal 

timidity. The  works  of  Hobbes  were  later  published  than 

fhose~of  Descartes,  though  he  was  by  eight  years  the  older. 
He  conceives  of  all  reality,  bodies  and  so-called  spirits, 
physical  processes  and  ideas,  as  ultimately  corporeal  in  their 
nature. 

a.  Preliminary  sketch  of  the  doctrine 

“The  Universe  being  the  Aggregate,”  Hobbes  says,  “of  all 
Bodies,  there  is  no  real  part  thereof  that  is  not  also  Body.” *  1 

1 “Leviathan,”  Pt.  III.,  Chapter  34,  Works,  edited  by  Molesworth, 
Vol.  III.,p.  381;  Open  Court  edition,  p.  174.  (References  to  Hobbes,  through- 
out the  footnotes  of  this  chapter,  are  made  to  the  Molesworth  edition,  and 
also,  wherever  it  is  possible,  to  the  volume  of  Selections,  issued  by  the  Open 
Court  Company.  The  quotations  from  the  “Leviathan”  are,  however, 
made  from  a copy  of  the  first  edition,  in  the  possession  of  the  writer,  and  follow 
the  orthography  of  the  original  text.)  The  student  is  counselled  to  read,  be- 
fore entering  upon  this  chapter,  at  least  the  following:  “Concerning  Body,” 
Chapters  i,  6-10,  25;  “Human  Nature,”  Chapter  2;  “Leviathan,”  Chapters 
ii,  31.  34  (Open  Court  edition,  pp.  5-80,  113-134,  157-180). 


58 


Pluralistic  Materialism 


Bodies,  he  teaches,  are  of  two  sorts,  less  and  more  subtle.  The 
less  subtle  — in  other  words,  the  visible  and  palpable  — 
bodies  are  commonly  known  as  bodies,  or  external  things. 
The  more  subtle  bodies,  on  the  other  hand,  are  called  spirits 
and  are  further  distinguished  from  bodies  of  the  more  pal- 
pable sort,  in  that  they  contain  within  themselves  the  repre- 
sentations of  other  things.1  In  the  words  of  Hobbes,  “some 
natural  bodies  have  in  themselves  the  patterns  almost  of  all 
things,  and  others  of  none  at  all.”2  Descartes  had  taught  that 
the  universe  is  made  up  of  God,  finite  spirits,  and  bodies. 
Hobbes  accepts  the  words  of  this  teaching  but  insists  that 
finite  spirits  and  infinite  spirit  are  alike  corporeal  in  nature. 
The  existence  of  finite  spirits  he  acknowledges  without 
argument.  For  the  existence  of  a supreme  being,  God,  he 
argues  much  as  Descartes  had  done : “ . . . He  that  from 
any  effect  he  seeth  come  to  pass,  should  reason  to  the  next 
and  immediate  cause  thereof,  and  from  thence  to  the  cause 
of  that  cause,  and  plunge  himself  profoundly  in  the  pursuit 
of  causes ; shall  at  last  come  to  this,  that  there  must  be  (as 
even  the  Heathen  Philosophers  confessed)  one  first  Mover; 
that  is,  a First  and  an  Eternal  cause  of  all  things ; which  is  that 
which  men  mean  by  the  name  of  God.”  3 But  beyond  the 
certainty  that  God  is  really  somewhat,  since  “ body  is 
doubtlessly  a real  substance,”  4 and  the  reasoned  conviction 
that  he  is  “first  cause  of  all  causes,”  we  have,  Hobbes  teaches, 

1 Cf.  “Human  Nature,”  Chapter  ii  (4),  Works,  IV.,  p.  60;  “Levia- 
than,” Pt.  IV.,  Chapters  34  and  36,  Works,  III.,  pp.  382  and  672 2 ; Open 
Court  edition,  p.  175. 

2 “Concerning  Body,”  Pt.  IV.,  Chapter  25  (1),  Works,  I.,  p.  389*; 
Open  Court  edition,  p.  115. 

3 “Leviathan,”  Pt.  I.,  Chapter  12,  Works,  III.,  pp.  95-96;  Open  Court 
edition,  p.  168.  Cf.  “Human  Nature,”  Chapter  11,  Works,  IV.,  p.  59. 
Hobbes  appeals  to  Scripture  for  confirmation  of  this  doctrine  that  God  is 
corporeal,  asserting  that  “the  Scripture  favoureth  them  more  that  hold 
angels  and  spirits  corporeal  than  them  that  hold  the  contrary  ” (“Human 
Nature,”  Chapter  11  (5),  Works,  IV.,  p.  62;  cf.  “Leviathan,”  Pt.  III., 
Chapter  34,  and  Pt.  IV.,  Chapter  45.) 

4 “Answer  to  Bishop  Bramhall,”  Works,  IV.,  p.  383. 


The  System  of  Hobbes 


59 


no  knowledge  of  his  nature.  We  may  not  attribute  to  him 
figure  or  place,  nor  ascribe  to  him  sight,  or  knowledge,  or 
understanding,  or  passions,  for  “that  were,”  Hobbes  declares, 
“ to  circumscribe  him  within  the  limits  of  our  fancy.” 1 Thus, 
he  says,  “all  that  will  consider  may  know  that  God  is,  though 
not  what  he  is.”  2 

Along  with  natural  bodies,  thus  enumerated,  Hobbes  also 
recognizes  what  he  calls  the  commonwealth.  “Two  chief 
kinds  of  bodies  . . . offer  themselves,”  he  says,  “to  such  as 
search  after  their  generation  and  properties;  one  whereof 
being  the  work  of  nature,  is  called  a natural  body , the  other  is 
called  a commonwealth,  and  is  made  by  the  wills  and  agree- 
ment of  men.  And  from  these  spring  the  two  parts  of  philoso- 
phy, called  natural  and  civil."  3 This  is  not  the  place  in  which 
to  discuss  the  civil  philosophy  of  Hobbes,  though  he  is  best 
known  by  his  brilliant  and  paradoxical  political  theory.  As 
is  evident  from  the  preceding  summary,  his  natural  philosophy 
or  metaphysics  is  really  a system  of  physics,  a doctrine  of 
body.  Accordingly,  he  names  his  chief  metaphysical  work 
“De  Corpore  (Concerning  Body),”  and  divides  it  into  three 
parts:  (i)  The  First  Grounds  of  Philosophy;  (2)  The 
Properties  of  Motions  and  Magnitudes;  (3)  Physics  or  the 
Phenomena  of  Nature.  Under  this  last  head,  Hobbes  de- 
scribes both  the  world  of  external  nature,  of  “fight,  heat  and 
colours,  cold,  wind,  ice,  lightening  and  thunder”  (to  quote 
from  his  chapter  headings),  and  also  the  inner  world  of  con- 
sciousness, of  “sight,  sound,  odour,  savour,  and  touch.”  His 
whole  philosophy  is  simply  a development  of  the  teaching 
which  he  summarizes  in  these  words,  “the  world  (I  mean 
the  whole  mass  of  all  things  that  are)  is  corporeal,  that  is  to  say, 
body;  . . . and  that  which  is  not  body  is  no  part  of  the 
universe.”4 

1 “Leviathan,”  Pt.  II.,  Chapter  31,  Works,  III,  p.  352;  Open  Court 
edition,  p.  173. 

2 “Human  Nature,”  Chapter  11  (2),  loc.  cit. 

3 “Concerning  Body,”  Pt.  I.,  Chapter  1 (9),  Works,  I.,  p.  ri;  Open 
Court  edition,  p.  14. 

4 “Leviathan,”  Pt.  IV.,  Chapter  46,  Works,  III.,  p.  672  2. 


6o 


Pluralistic  Materialism 


b.  The  doctrine  oj  Hobbes  concerning  the  nature  oj  bodies 

This  preliminary  sketch  of  the  doctrine  of  Hobbes  must 
be  supplemented  by  a closer  study  of  his  conception  of  body. 
He  defines  body  as  “that  which  having  no  dependance  upon 
our  thought  is  coincident  or  co-extended  with  some  part  of 
space.”  1 This  definition  assigns  to  body  two  characteristics : 
(i)  independence  of  thought,  and  (2)  spatialness  or  extension. 
A consideration  of  the  first  of  these  characters  reveals  a cer- 
tain ambiguity  in  Hobbes’s  expression.  As  it  stands,  the 
statement  that  body  is  independent  of  thought  implies  the 
dualistic  doctrine  that  thought  as  well  as  body  has  reality. 
But  the  reiterated  statements  of  Hobbes,  that  spirit  is  a form 
of  body,  forbid  this  view  and  justify  us  in  the  conclusion  that 
Hobbes  means  by  body  that  which  is  ultimately  non-con- 
sciousness, not-ideal. 

The  second  and  more  positive  character  of  body  is  its  co- 
incidence with  some  part  of  space.  Space,  which  “ is  the  same 
thing,”  Hobbes  says,  with  extension  or  magnitude,  is  here  to 
be  understood  as  ‘real  space.’ 2 3 It  does  not  “depend  upon 
our  cogitation”;  it  is  a property  or  ‘accident’  or  ‘faculty’ 
of  body.1  Here  again.  Hobbes’s  doctrine  of  body  is  in  har- 
monywith  that  of  Descartes, 

A third  and  once  more  a positive  character  of  body  is  often 
recognized  by  Hobbes,  though  not  included  in  the  definition 
just  quoted.  This  is  motion,  which  he  defines  as  “a  contin- 
ual relinquishing  of  one  place  and  acquiring  of  another.”  4 
Thus  conceived,  motion  seems  to  be  a complex  attribute  of 

1 “Concerning  Body,”  Pt.  I.,  Chapter  8 (1),  Works,  I.,  p.  102;  Open 
Court  edition,  p.  53. 

2 “Concerning  Body,”  Chapter  8 (4),  Works,  I.,  p.  105  2;  Open  Court 
edition,  p.  55  2. 

3 Ibid.,  Pt.  II.,  Chapter  8 (2),  Works  I.,  p.  103;  Open  Court  edition, 
pp.  53-54.  Cf.  “Leviathan,”  Pt.  III.,  Chapter  34,  paragraph  2,  Works, 
III.,  p.  38,  Open  Court  edition,  p.  174 2. 

4 Ibid.,  Chapter  8 (10),  Works,  I.,  p.  109;  Open  Court  edition,  p.  59. 


The  System  of  Hobbes 


61 


body,  consisting  of  spatial  position  and  temporal  succession. 
Hobbes,  however,  though  he  often  implies  that  motion  is 
subordinate  to  extension,  more  often  regards  it  as  an  attribute 
of  body  coordinate  with  spatialness:  “Motion  and  Magni- 
tude,” he  says,  “are  the  most  common  accidents  of  bodies.” 1 
He  is  at  pains  to  emphasize  also  two  subsidiary  theories  con- 
cerning motion,  both  following  from  the  doctrine  that  reality 
is  corporeal.  The  first  is  the  teaching  that  all  forms  of  change 
are  motion.  “Mutation,”  he  says,  “can  be  nothing  else  but 
motion  of  the  parts  of  that  body  which  is  changed.”  2 This  is 
obviously  true  on  Hobbes’s  principles.  For  if  all  reality  is 
body,  and  if  body  is  spatial,  then  the  only  change  possible 
certainly  is  change  of  place,  that  is,  motion.3  The  second  of 
the  corollaries  of  his  materialistic  doctrine  concerns  the  cause 
of  motion.  Hobbes  teaches  that  “there  can  be  no  cause  of 
motion  except  in  a body  contiguous  and  moved.”  4 The 
proof  which  he  offers  for  this  teaching  that  motion  must  be 
caused  by  the  impact  of  a moving  body  is,  in  his  own  words, 
the  following:  “a  cause  is  such  that  being  supposed  to  be 
present  it  cannot  be  conceived  but  that  the  effect  will  follow.” 
But  if  a body  be  untouched  by  any  other  and  “if  it  be  sup- 
posed to  be  now  at  rest,  we  may  conceive  it  will  continue  so 
till  it  be  touched  by  some  other  body.  . . . And  in  like 
manner  seeing  we  may  conceive  that  whatsoever  is  at  rest  will 
still  be  at  rest,  though  it  be  touched  by  some  other  body, 
except  that  other  body  be  moved,  therefore  in  a contiguous 
body  which  is  at  rest  there  can  be  no  cause  of  motion.” 

1 “Concerning  Body,”  Pt.  III.,  Chapter  15  (1),  Works,  I.,  p.  203;  Open 
Court  edition,  p.  95.  Cf.  the  title  of  Pt.  III.,  “Proportions  of  Motions 
and  Magnitudes.” 

2 Ibid..,  Pt.  II.,  Chapter  9 (9),  Works,  I.,  p.  126;  Open  Court  edition, 
p.  752.  Cf.  Pt.  IV.,  Chapter  25  (2). 

3 Hobbes  argues  this  doctrine  from  the  proposition  that  motion  is  the  cause 
of  change  (cf.  below).  But  this  argument  involves  the  improved  assump- 
tion of  the  necessary  likeness  of  cause  and  effect  (cf.  above,  Chapter  2, 
P-48)._ 

4 Ibid.,  Pt.  II.,  Chapter  9 (7),  Works,  I.,  p.  124;  Open  Court  edition, 
P-  732- 


62 


P luralistic  Materialism 


It  is  needless  to  discuss  in  further  detail  Hobbes’s  doctrine 
of  the  nature  of  reality.  His  philosophy  becomes,  indeed,  a 
mixture  of  geometry  and  mechanics.  He  discusses  “Motion 
Accelerated  and  Uniform,”  “The  Figures  Deficient,”  “The 
Equation  of  Strait  Lines  with  the  Crooked  Lines  of  Parabo- 
las,” “Angles  of  Incidence  and  Reflection,”  “The  Dimension 
of  a Circle,”  “Circular  Motion,”  “The  Centre  of  Equipon- 
deration,”  “Refraction  and  Reflection.”  1 On  most  of  these 
subjects  his  views  are  — to  say  the  least  — now  antiquated, 
and  he  was  never  other  than  an  amateur  in  mathematics ; 2 
but  his  introduction  of  these  topics  is  entirely  consistent.  For 
if  “every  part  of  the  universe  is  body,”  the  mathematical  laws 
of  the  physical  world  are  indeed  the  principles  of  all  reality. 

c.  The  argument  oj  Hobbes 

From  this  outline  of  the  system  of  Hobbes  it  is  necessary 
now  to  turn  to  a consideration  of  the  arguments  by  which  he 
reaches  his  conclusions.  It  is  fair  to  say  that  he  himself  lays 
little  stress  on  these  arguments,  and  that  for  the  most  part  he 
asserts  and  makes  plausible,  instead  of  arguing,  his  material- 
istic teaching.  In  the  first  place  Hobbes  reduces  all  quali- 
ties of  the  external  world  to  extension  and  motion.  This 
he  achieves  by  arguing  for  the  ‘phantastical’  character 
of  the  remaining  qualities,  (i)  It  is  universally  agreed, 
Hobbes  first  points  out,  that  certain  ‘images’  (by  which 
he  means  sense-ideas),  for  example,  the  percept  of  an  oar  as 
bent  in  a stream,  and  the  hearing  of  an  echo  — are  ‘merely 
phantastical,’  that  is,  that  no  ‘real’  objects  correspond 
to  these  images.  But  this  admission  throws  doubt  on  the 
existence  of  any  ‘ real  ’ shape,  or  color,  or  sound  corre- 
sponding to  the  consciousness  of  these  qualities.  Why 
should  there  be  a ‘ real  ’ oar  corresponding  to  one’s  per- 

1 These  are  titles,  or  part-titles,  of  chapters  in  “ Concerning  Body,”  Pt.III. 

2 Cf.  G.  C.  Robertson,  “ Hobbes,”  pp.  167  seq.;  as  also  the  comment  on 
“ Concerning  Body,”  Open  Court  edition,  p.  xix. 


The  System  of  Hobbes 


63 


cept  of  a straight  oar,  if  there  is  no  £ real  ’ oar  correspond- 
ing to  one’s  percept  of  the  oar  as  bent  ? Or  why  should 
there  be  a ‘ real  ’ sound  which  tallies  with  the  hearing  of 
a shout  and  no  ‘ real  ’ sound  parallel  with  the  equally 
clear  hearing  of  the  echo  ? 1 (2)  It  is  certain,  Hobbes 

also  argues,  that  the  same  object  produces  different  ideas 
in  different  people.  For  instance,  “it  is  apparent  enough,” 
he  says,  “that  the  smell  and  taste  of  the  same  thing  are 
not  the  same  to  every  man.”  But  the  smell  and  taste 
which  vary  with  every  observer  “are  not,”  Hobbes  says, 
“in  the  thing  smelt  and  tasted  but  in  the  men.”2  (3)  A 
consciousness  of  light,  Hobbes  proceeds,  may  be  produced 
not  by  any  external  object  but  by  direct  stimulation  of 
the  end-organ.3  In  this  case  it  is  clearly  wrong  to  infer 
from  the  ‘apparition  of  light’  the  existence  of  any  external 
light.  All  that  can  rightly  be  inferred  is  the  occurrence 
of  motion  in  the  organ.4 

For  Hobbes,  as  for  Descartes,  the  implication  of  all 
these  facts  is  that  “the  things  that  really  are  in  the  world 
without  us  are  . . . motions.”  But  Hobbes  goes  further 
than  Descartes  and  argues  that  consciousness,  because 
caused  by  motion,  is  itself  a form  of  motion.  Consciousness, 
Hobbes  points  out,  is  the  inevitable  consequent  of  brain 
and  nerve  excitations ; and  these  in  turn  follow  upon  motions 
in  the  external  object.  For  example,  “ it  is  evident,”  he  says, 
“that  fire  worketh  by  motion.  . . . And  further,  that  that 
motion  wherebv  the  fire  worketh,  is  dilation  and  contrac- 

1 “ Human  Nature,”  Chapter  2 (5),  Works,  IV.,  p.  4 ; Open  Court  edi- 
tion, p.  158. 

2 “Human  Nature,”  Chapter  2 (9),  Works,  IV.,  p.  6 ; Open  Court  edition, 
p.  161.  Berkeley  later  turned  this  doctrine  to  idealistic  use.  (Cf.  Chap.  IV.) 

3 “ Human  Nature,”  Chapter  2 (7),  Works,  IV.,  p.  5 ; Open  Court  edi- 
tion, p.  159. 

4 In  the  corresponding  paragraph  of  the  earlier  editions  of  this  book 
I treated  the  three  considerations  here  brought  forward  as  arguments  for 
the  untrustworthiness  of  consciousness,  and  thus  indirect  arguments  for  the 
ultimate  reality  of  body.  I have  come  to  the  conclusion  that  such  an  inter- 
pretation is  forced. 


64  Pluralistic  Materialism 

t ion  of  itself  alternately.  . . . From  such  motion  in  the  fire 
must  needs  arise  a rejection  or  casting  from  itself  of  that  part 
of  the  medium  which  is  contiguous  to  it  whereby  that  part  also 
rejecteth  the  next,  and  so  successively  one  part  beateth  back 
another  to  the  very  eye;  and  in  the  same  manner  the  exterior 
part  of  the  eye  presseth  the  interior  . . . and  therefore  the 
motion  is  still  continued  thereby  into  the  brain.  . . . And 
thus  all  vision  hath  its  original  from  such  motion  as  is  here 
described.  . . .”x  It  follows,  Hobbes  believes,  that  opera- 
tions of  the  mind,  or  as  he  calls  them,  “ conceptions  and  appari- 
tions are  nothing  really  but  motion  in  some  internal  substance 
of  the  head;  which  motion  not  stopping  there  but  proceeding 
to  the  heart  must  there  either  help  or  hinder  the  motion  which 
is  called  vital;  when  it  helpeth  it  is  called  delight  . . . which 
is  nothing  really  but  motion  about  the  heart  as  conception  is 
nothing  but  motion  in  the  head  . . . ; but  when  such  mo- 
tion . . . hindereth  the  vital  motion  then  it  is  called  pain.”  2 
This  is  the  familiar  argument  which  has  given  all  materialistic 
theories  their  force.  Consciousness  is  observed  to  follow, 
and,  in  some  sense  of  the  word,  to  depend,  on  physical  pro- 
cesses, notably  those  of  the  brain,  and  is,  therefore,  easily 
conceived  as  itself  a form  of  physical  process,  a function  of 
the  brain.3 

II.  Critical  Estimate  of  the  Doctrine  of  Hobbes 

The  attempt  to  estimate  the  system  and  the  arguments  of 
Hobbes,  thus  outlined,  must  follow  on  this  exposition.  To 

1 Op.  cit.,  Chapter  2 (8),  Works,  IV.,  p.  6;  Open  Court  edition,  p.  160. 

2 Ibid.,  Chapter  7 (1),  p.  31.  Cf.  “Concerning  Body,”  Pt.  IV.,  Chapter 
25  (12),  Works,  I.,  p.  4062;  Open  Court  edition,  p.  131 1 ; also  “Levia- 
than,” Pt.  I.,  Chapter  1,  Works, III., p.  2:  “All  which  qualities  called  Sensible 
are  in  the  object  that  causeth  them,  but  so  many  several  motions  of  the 
matter,  by  the  which  it  presseth  our  organs.  . . . Neither  in  us  that  are 
pressed  are  they  anything  else  but  divers  motions  (for  motion  produceth 
nothing  but  motion).” 

3 Cf.,  for  fuller  statement  and  discussion  of  this  argument.  Chapter  5, 
p.  132  seq. 


The  System  of  Hobbes 


65 


students  of  the  history  of  philosophy  it  is  evident  that 
Hobbes  reduces  consciousness  to  motion  in  essentially  the 
fashion  in  which,  in  succeeding  centuries,  Holbach  and 
Vogt  and  Haeckel  have  argued  that  mind  is  a function  of 
matter.  In  every  form  of  his  argument  Hobbes  assumes 
the  ultimately  material  nature  of  that  ‘motion’  in  the  ex- 
ternal object  which,  when  ‘ continued  into  the  brain  ’ and 
‘to  the  heart’  becomes  the  antecedent  condition  of  conscious- 
ness ; and  he  assumes  also  the  inevitable  likeness  of  effect 
to  cause.  He  argues  in  other  words,  that  because  motion 
causes  consciousness,  therefore  consciousness  is  motion.  To 
this  conclusion  several  objections  may  be  raised . In  the  first 

place,  Hobbes  does  not  prove,  any  more  than  Descartes  had 
proved,1  that  effect  and  cause  must  resemble  each  other. 
Everyday  observation  shows  us  many  exceptions  to  the  rule. 
Even  therefore  if  one  grant  that  consciousness  is  caused  by 
motion,  it  does  not  follow  that  Hobbes  is  right  in  his  constant 
assertions  that  consciousness  is  a form  of  motion.2 

From  this  indication  that  Hobbes  does  not  prove  his  point 
we  may  go  a step  farther.  When  he  says  that  a given  con- 
sciousness— conception,  or  pleasure,  or  pain  — is  ‘nothing 
really  but  motion,’  he  must  mean  that  this  consciousness  is 
a kind  of  motion.  Now  the  final  authority  on  the  nature  of 
consciousness  is  consciousness  itself ; in  other  words,  by  in- 
trospection only  may  one  know  what  consciousness  is.3  But 
introspection  of  any  given  consciousness  will  assure  any  one 
that  it  is  not  identical  with  the  brain  excitation  which  is  its 
physical  correlate.  The  sensation  of  red  may  be  caused  or 
accompanied  by  ‘motion  and  agitation’  of  the  brain,  but  the 
sensation  of  red,  as  directly  known  by  us,  is  not  identical  with 
the  brain  excitation  which  occasions  it.  One  could  not,  for 
instance,  replace  the  term  ‘color  sensation’  by  the  term 

1 Cf.  supra,  pp.  48  seq. 

2 “Human  Nature,”  Chapter  8 (1),  Works,  IV.,  p.  34. 

3 Cf.  Hobbes’s  virtual  admission  of  this,  op.  cit.,  Chapter  1 (2),  Works, 
IV.,  p.  1. 


66 


P luralistic  Materialism 


‘occipital  lobe  excitation,’  as  would  be  possible  if  the  two 
terms  stood  for  an  identical  reality. 

A final  objection  of  an  utterly  different  sort  may  now  be 
urged  against  the  materialism  of  Hobbes.1  Even  if  one 
granted  the  validity  of  his  arguments,  his  doctrine  would 
refute  itself,  for  body,  conceived  as  he  conceives  it  as  the 
‘space-filling’  or  ‘moving,’  turns  out  to  be  a mere  nothing  or 
else  itself  a form  of  consciousness.  This  objection  must  be 
made  good  by  a careful  reexamination  of  his  teaching  about 
body,  or  matter. 

Body,  it  will  be  recalled,  is  conceived  by  Hobbes  as  (i)  in- 
dependent, as  (2)  spatial,  and  as  (3)  possessed  of  motion. 
The  first  of  these  is  obviously  a negative  character.  Spatial- 
ness, on  the  other  hand,  has  the  appearance  of  a positive 
attribute  of  body.  But  space  (magnitude)  is  defined  by 
Hobbes  as  the  ‘ peculiar  accident  of  every  body  ’ ; 2 and  ac- 
cident is  defined  as  ‘that  faculty  of  any  body  by  which  it 
works  in  us  a conception  of  itself  ’ ; 3 so  that  real  space,  ac- 
cording to  Hobbes,  is  no  more  than  this : cause  of  the  concep- 
tion of  space.  In  other  words,  space  is  defined  in  terms  of 
consciousness.  Our  only  clue  to  the  nature  of  real  space  is 
then  our  acquaintance  with  the  idea  of  space.  But  such  a 
view  endows  consciousness  with  a more  certain  and  primary 
reality  than  that  of  body ; and  this  conception,  though  plainly 
implied  by  the  definitions  just  quoted,  is  of  course  at  utter 
variance  with  the  materialistic  doctrine  of  Hobbes : the  con- 
sciousness or  idea  of  anything  is  indeed,  on  his  view  of  it,  the 
mere  phantasm  or  appearance  of  body  — less  real,  not  more 
real,  than  body.  Combining  the  conclusions  of  Hobbes  him- 
self, we  have  then  the  following  curious  result : — 

The  peculiar  attribute  of  body  is  space. 

1 The  untrained  student  is  advised  to  omit  the  remainder  of  this  section 

in  his  first  reading  of  the  chapter. 

3 “Concerning  Body,”  Pt.  II.,  Chapter  8 (5),  Works,  I.,  p.  105  3;  Open 
Court  edition,  p.  56. 

3 Ibid.,  Chapter  8 (2),  Works,  I.,  p.  103;  Open  Court  edition,  p.  54. 


The  System  of  Hobbes  67 

Space  can  be  defined  only  as  cause  of  the  consciousness  of 
space. 

The  consciousness  of  space  is  the  effect  of  space,  it  has  only 
superficial  reality  of  its  own. 

In  other  words : x is  the  cause  of  y,  and  y is  the  effect  of  x, 
and  this  is  all  that  is  true  of  either  of  them. 

The  statement  that  Hobbes  has  no  positive  conception  of 
body  is  justified,  therefore,  so  far  as  the  independence  and  the 
spatialness  of  body  are  concerned.  How,  then,  does  it  fare 
with  the  third  attribute,  motion?  Hobbes’s  definition  of 
motion  has  been  quoted,  ‘the  continual  relinquishing  of  one 
place  and  acquiring  of  another.’  He  conceives  motion,  in 
other  words,  as  succession  of  places  (that  is  of  spatial  modifi- 
cations). This  space-factor  of  the  conception  need  not  be 
further  considered,  for  it  has  just  been  shown  that,  on  the 
principles  of  Hobbes  himself,  space  is  either  mere  conscious- 
ness (a  conclusion  which  Hobbes  denies),  or  that  it  is  the  un- 
known cause  of  consciousness.  The  character  which,  added 
to  spatial  position,  gives  motion  is  succession.  How  then 
does  Hobbes  define  succession  ? Has  it  that  positive  character 
which  we  are  seeking,  in  order  to  give  positive  meaning  to 
body?  The  words  of  Hobbes  are  these : “As  a body  leaves  a 
phantasm  of  its  magnitude  in  the  mind,  so  also  a moved  body 
leaves  a phantasm  of  its  motion  namely  an  idea  of  that  body 
passing  out  of  one  space  into  another  by  continual  succession. 
And  this  idea,  or  phantasm,  is  that  . . . which  I call  Time.”  1 
Succession  is  thus  defined  by  Hobbes  as  the  reality  which 
corresponds  to  the  idea,  time.  As  space  was  found  to  be  the 
cause  of  the  idea  of  space,  so  succession  becomes  that-whose- 
idea-is-time.  And  in  the  case  of  succession,  as  in  that  of 
space,  the  idea  seems  to  be  more  important  than  the  real  suc- 
cession, seeing  that  this  latter  virtually  is  defined  in  terms  of 
the  idea.  Such  a conclusion  again  runs  counter  to  Hobbes’s 
formal  doctrine,  and  we  are  forced  to  decide  that  his  concep- 

1 “ Concerning  Body,”  Chapter  7 (3),  Works,  I.,  p.  94  2 ; Open  Court 
edition,  p.  46. 


68 


P luralistic  Materialism 


tion  of  succession  — that  character  which,  added  to  spatial- 
ness  (place),  gives  motion  — is  entirely  vague.  The  results 
of  the  teaching  of  Hobbes  about  motion  may  then  be  stated 
somewhat  as  follows : — 

An  essential  attribute  of  body  is  motion. 

Motion  is  a complex  of  spatial  positions  in  a succession. 

Succession  can  be  defined  only  as  ‘ cause  of  the  idea  of  suc- 
cession (time)  ’ ; and  space  only  as  cause  of  the  idea  of  space. 

Yet  ideas  of  spatial  position  and  of  succession  have  no  char- 
acter except  that  of  being  effects  of  space  and  of  succession. 

There  is  no  escape  for  Hobbes  from  the  inconsistency  of 
insisting  that  bodies  only,  and  not  ideas,  have  reality,  and  at 
the  same  time  of  conceiving  body  only  as  it  is  related  to  ideas. 
The  difficulty  could,  to  be  sure,  be  avoided  by  admitting  that 
ideas  are  realities  and  not  mere  appearances  of  something 
else.  Often,  indeed,  Hobbes  seems  almost  to  embrace  this 
view.  He  defines  time  — a most  obstinate  reality,  it  would 
seem  — as  an  idea ; he  makes  the  ‘impossibility  of  conceiving 
the  opposite’  a test  of  causality;  thus  setting  up  conscious- 
ness, the  so-called  phantasm,  as  test  of  physical  causality ; he 
calls  place  a ‘ phantasm  ’ which  is  ‘ nothing  out  of  the  mind  ’ ; 
and  he  defines  not  only  space,  succession,  and  motion,  but 
infinity,  line,  surface,  and  the  like,  in  terms  which  presuppose 
the  existence  of  consciousness.  “Everything,”  he  says,  “is 
finite  or  infinite  according  as  we  imagine  or  do  not  imagine 
it  limited  or  terminated  every  way.”  1 “If  a body  which  is 
moved  be  considered  as  long,  and  be  supposed  to  be  so 
moved,  as  that  all  the  several  parts  of  it  be  understood  to 
make  several  lines,  then  the  way  of  every  part  of  that  body 
is  called  breadth .”  2 From  these  definitions,  it  would  appear 
that  our  imagining  and  considering  and  understanding  are 
essential  features  of  reality,  not  mere  unreal  appearances.3 

1 “Concerning  Body,”  Chapter  7 (11),  Works,  I.,  p.  98s;  Open  Court 
edition,  p.  50 

2 Ibid.,  Chapter  8 (12),  Works,  I.,  p.  in;  Open  Court  edition,  p.  61. 

3 The  essential  idealism  of  Hobbes’s  view  of  body  is  still  further  evident 


The  System  of  Hobbes 


69 


Hobbes  never  realizes  the  significance  of  these  idealistic 
implications  of  his  teaching ; he  never  yields  the  view  that 
spirit  is  a subtle  and  invisible  body  and  that  consciousness 
is  a bodily  excitation ; he  never  fails  to  conceive  the  uni- 
verse as  a totality  of  material  things.  And  in  spite  of  the 
objections  to  his  system,  he  has  certainly  achieved  two  re- 
sults : He  has  formulated,  in  the  first  place,  a materialism 
more  complete  than  any  since  the  days  of  Demokritos  — a 
materialism  which  embraces  man,  society,  and  God.  He 
has  suggested,  in  the  second  place,  the  argument  which 
must  be  squarely  met  by  all  opponents  of  materialistic  sys- 
tems : the  argument,  still  urged  by  materialists  of  our  own 
day,  that  consciousness,  because  continuous  with  the  un- 
broken succession  of  so-called  physical  and  physiological 
phenomena,  is  itself  a function  of  the  body. , 


The  m , it  must 

be  confessed,  upon  strictly  metaphysical  thought.  He  is 
best  known  by  the  teaching  of  his  ethics  and  his  politics : the, 
doctrine  that  all  men  are  essentially  selfish  and  that  morality 


others  — are  reactions  against  this  teaching,  and  that  of 
Mandeville  was  a variation  upon  it.  Yet  in  spite  of  the  pre- 
dominance of  practical  philosophy  among  British  thinkers, 
and  in  spite  of  the  uncritical  condemnation  of  Hobbes’s 
metaphysics  along  with  his  loudly  decried  ethics  and  politics, 
his  materialistic  teaching  none  the  less  reappears,  John 
Toland,  best  known  for  his  ‘deistical  writings,’ — in  other 

from  the  fact  that  in  the  earlier  paragraphs  of  Chapter  7 (on  “ Place  and 
Time”)  he  uses  the  expression  ‘space,’ without  the  limiting  prefix, ‘imaginary,’ 
to  refer  to  the  idea  or  phantasm.  Cf.  Chapter  7 (2),  Works,  p.  94;  Open 
Court  edition,  p.  45,  where  he  defines  ‘space’  thus:  “space  is  the  phantasm 
of  a thing  existing  without  the  mind  simply.” 


and  government 'alike  arise  only  after  experience  has  shown 
that  ‘each  man  for  himself’  runs  greater  risks  and  gains  less 
satisfaction  'than  through  cooperation.  The  ethical  systems 


of  Cudworfh,  Cumberland,”'  and  Shaftesbury  — to  name  no 


70 


Pluralistic  Materialism 


words  for  his  defence  of  reasoned  as  contrasted  with  revealed 
religion, — teaches,  as  Hobbes  had  taught,  that  all  reality  is 
corporeal,  “that  thought  is  the  function  of  the  brain  as  taste 
of  the  tongue” ; 1 and  like  Hobbes  he  lays  stress  on  the  essen- 
tial activity  of  matter.  To  such  a materialistic  conclusion 
Harteley  tends  in  his  “Observations  on  Man,”  arguing  that 
soul  no  less  than  light  may  be  material  and  that  the  traces  or 
vibrations  in  the  brain  are  our  ideas.  And  later  still  Joseph 
Priestley  asserts  unequivocally  the  materiality  of  the  soul  and 
of  God,  using  the  arguments  already  outlined  and  insisting 
also  on  the  difficulties  of  Cartesian  dualism.  All  these  Brit- 
ish materialists,  including  Hobbes  himself,  are  convinced  of 
the  existence  of  God,2  and  are  hereby  sharply  contrasted  with 
the  French  materialists  of  the  eighteenth  century;  for  these 
believe  that  God  is  logically  de  trop  in  a world  which  is  purely 
material.  La  Mettrie,  rejecting  all  the  spiritualistic  side  of 
Descartes’s  doctrine,  reasons  from  the  analogy  of  Descartes’s 
automaton  animal  body  to  the  conclusion  that  man  also  is  a 
mechanism,  Phomme  machine,  as  he  expresses  it  in  the  title 
of  his  most  important  book.  And  Holbach  and  Cabanis  with 
equal  vigor  insist  that  thought  is  a function  of  the  brain  and 
that  God  is  superfluous  in  a world  ruled  by  mechanical 
law.  But  even  more  important  than  the  reassertion  of 
materialism  is  the  reaction  upon  it;  to  the  consideration  of 
this  we  must  now  turn. 

1 “Pantheisticon,”  p.  15  (1710). 

2 Hobbes,  indeed,  and  Toland  (in  his  earlier  writings)  are  theists,  not  mere 
deists,  that  is,  they  admit  the  authority  of  revelation,  though  they  insist  on 
interpreting  it  in  accordance  with  reason. 


CHAPTER  IV 


PLURALISTIC  SPIRITUALISM:  THE  SYSTEM  OF 
LEIBNIZ  1 

“The  great  idealist  who  did  not  find  individuality  at  all  incompatible 
with  universality.” — William  Wallace. 

The  philosophy  of  Hobbes  was  a reaction  against  that 
dualistic  pluralism  of  the  Middle  Ages  which  assumed  the  ex- 
istence of  God,  finite  spirits,  and  material  bodies.  Descartes 
had,  it  is  true,  challenged  these  doctrines,  but  he  had  too 
uncritically  reinstated  them  all,  by  his  teaching  that  the  cer- 
tain existence  of  myself  implies  the  existence  of  a perfect  God ; 
and  that  God,  because  perfect,  is  incapable  of  deceiving  us  in 
our  clear  conviction  that  the  world  outside  us  exists.  In 
spite  of  Hobbes,  Cartesianism  (the  philosophy  of  Descartes) 
reigned  supreme  throughout  the  seventeenth  century;  even 
the  philosophers  who  differed  from  Descartes  built  up  their 
philosophy  on  his  principles.  Most  important  of  these 
systems,  supplementing  and  correcting  that  of  Descartes,  are 
the  teachings  of  Geulinx  and  Malebranche.  Descartes,  it 
will  be  remembered,  inconsistently  asserts  both  the  utter  un- 
relatedness and,  on  the  other  hand,  the  interrelation  of  a 
spirit  with  a body.  Geulinx  seeks  to  avoid  this  inconsistency 
by  his  teaching  that  finite  spirit  and  finite  body  do  not  really 
affect  each  other,  but  that  God  works  changes  in  a given 

1 The  full  description  of  this  system  would  be,  by  the  title,  numerically 
pluralistic,  qualitatively  monistic,  and  idealistic  spiritualism.  But  spiritual- 
ism is  a form  of  idealism,  as  idealism  of  monism,  hence  these  terms  are 
superfluous;  and  it  has  been  agreed  to  imply  the  terms  ‘ numerical  ’ and 
‘ qualitative  ’ by  the  order  of  the  words  which  they  are  meant  to  qualify. 

It  should  be  noted  that  the  word  ‘spirit’  and  its  derivative  adjectives, 
especially  current  in  the  time  of  Leibniz  and  of  Berkeley,  are  used  throughout 
this  book  as  synonyms  for  the  terms  ‘ self,’  ‘ person,’  or  ‘ I,’  and  the  corre- 
sponding adjective,  ‘personal.’ 


71 


72  Pluralistic  Spiritualism 

spirit  on  the  occasion  of  changes  in  the  corresponding  body, 
and  changes  in  a body  to  correspond  with  the  changes  in  a 
particular  spirit.  Thus,  he  teaches,  God  is  the  real  cause  of 
all  changes,  spiritual  and  bodily,  and  the  interaction  of 
finite  spirit  and  finite  body  is  only  apparent.  Similarly  Male- 
branche  denies  the  activity  alike  of  finite  minds  and  of  finite 
bodies,  teaching  that  God  is  the  only  ground  of  activity  and 
that  we  perceive,  not  things  external  to  us,  but  the  ideas  of 
these  same  things  in  the  mind  of  God.  Unquestionably  both 
these  doctrines  meet  the  particular  difficulty  in  Descartes’s 
teaching  which  they  were  framed  to  correct.  They  are 
powerless,  however,  against  at  least  two  other  objections  to 
qualitative  dualism.  In  the  first  place,  both  Geulinx  and 
Malebranche  admit  the  existence  of  corporeal  bodies  without 
offering  any  sufficient  reason  or  argument  for  their  being; 
whereas  it  may  well  be  argued  that  if,  as  they  teach,  God 
alone  causes  our  perceptions,  we  need  infer  no  objects  cor- 
responding with  these  perceptions.1  And,  in  the  second  place, 
neither  doctrine  overcomes  the  difficulty  of  the  relation  of 
God  to  matter,  since,  if  he  be  pure  spirit,  in  Descartes’s 
sense,  it  is  difficult  to  understand  how  he  created  matter  or 
how  he  can  even  have  ideas  of  matter. 

Hobbes,  as  we  know,  has  another  solution  of  the  difficulty 
which  Geulinx  and  Malebranche,  without  full  success,  have 
tried  to  meet.  The  relation  between  bodies  and  spirits  is, 
according  to  his  teaching,  readily  explained,  since  spirits  are 
ultimately  bodily  in  nature.  But  this  teaching,  though  it 
would  indeed  meet  the  difficulty,  has  been  found  to  be  in  itself 
objectionable.  For  Hobbes  not  only  does  not  base  the  doc- 
trine on  valid  argument,  but  when  he  tries  to  define  body,  he 
conceives  it  always  in  terms  which  apply  solely  to  spirit.  His 
philosophy,  therefore,  though  an  uncompromising  assertion 
of  materialism,  really  is  an  implicit  argument  for  idealism  — • 
the  doctrine  that  there  is  but  one  kind  of  reality,  the  imma- 


1 Cf.  Appendix,  p.  464. 


The  System  of  Leibniz 


73 


terial.  Such  a doctrine,  no  less  than  materialism,  evidently 
meets  the  difficulty  of  the  dualistic,  two-substance  doctrine. 

Gottfried  Wilhelm  von  Leibniz,  first  of  the  great  German 
philosophers,  adopts  this  idealistic  solution  of  the  problem 
involved  in  Rene  Descartes’s  dualism.1  In  other  words, 
Leibniz  teaches  that  there  is  fundamentally  but  one  sort  of 
reality,  the  spiritual,  or,  as  he  would  say,  the  soul-like.  The 
purpose  of  this  chapter  is,  first,  to  outline  the  argument 
by  which  Leibniz  reaches  his  conclusion;  and  second,  to 
summarize  his  doctrine  in  its  different  applications.  These 
aims,  however,  are  particularly  difficult  of  attainment.  For 
Leibniz  never  wrote  a complete  and  systematic  treatise  on 
philosophy.  In  truth,  philosophy  was  but  one  of  his 
many  intellectual  interests.  He  was  mathematician,  jurist, 
and  historian,  as  well  as  metaphysical  thinker.  More  than 
this,  he  lived  always  the  active  life  of  the  diplomatist  and 
courtier,  never  the  life  of  the  academic  or  professional 
philosopher.  He  spent  nearly  ten  years,  after  leaving  the 
university,  in  the  service  of  the  elector  of  Mainz  and  in  dip- 
lomatic journeys;  and  in  1676,  when  he  was  but  thirty  years 
old,  he  entered  on  his  long  service  to  the  House  of  Hanover. 
So  it  came  about  that  he  was  mainly  occupied  with  practical, 
rather  than  with  speculative,  concerns ; and  his  philosophical 
works  were  not  written  with  the  purpose  of  setting  forth  con- 
secutively and  logically  the  principles  of  his  system,  but  for 
the  most  part  each  with  some  special  purpose:  to  estimate 
some  recent  book,  to  outline  the  system  for  the  use  of  a friend, 
to  meet  some  special  difficulty,  or  to  answer  some  definite 
criticism.  Only  two  of  Leibniz’s  philosophical  works  — a 
thesis  written  during  his  university  days,  and  the  “ Theodicy,” 
written  for  the  Princess  Sophie-Charlotte,  appeared,  during 
his  life,  in  book  form.  For  the  most  part,  therefore,  his  philo- 

1 It  is  perhaps  best  for  the  beginner  in  philosophy  to  omit  this  chapter  on 
the  first  reading  of  the  book.  The  immaterialism  of  Leibniz  is  later  presented 
in  Berkeley’s  philosophy,  the  subject  of  the  next  chapter,  and  Berkeley’s 
writings  are  simpler  and  clearer,  if  less  profound,  than  those  of  Leibniz. 


74 


Pluralistic  Spiritualism 


sophical  writing  consisted  of  his  correspondence,  still  largely 
unpublished,  and  of  papers  contributed  to  the  Acta  Erudi- 
torum  and  to  other  learned  journals  of  his  day.  To  derive 
from  these  unsystematic,  occasional  writings  a clear,  consist- 
ent, and  comprehensive  account  of  Leibniz’s  philosophy  is  a 
task  of  greatest  hazard  and  difficulty.  Only,  indeed,  by 
verifying  and  supplementing  one  statement  by  many  others, 
and  by  allowing  for  the  particular  attitude  of  the  person  for 
whom  Leibniz  was  writing,  is  it  possible  to  frame  any  such 
statement  at  all.1 

I.  The  System  of  Leibniz 

The  universe,  that  is,  the  all-of-reality,  consists,  in  Leibniz’s 
view,  of  an  indefinite  number  of  ‘monads,’  or  soul-like  sub- 
stances dominated  by  one  supreme  monad,  God.  It  will  be 
convenient  to  expound  this  doctrine,  at  first  without  any  save 
incidental  criticism.  This  exposition  will  fall  under  two 
main  heads:  (a)  the  argument  for  the  doctrine  that  the 
universe  consists  of  immaterial  and  distinct  realities,  or 
monads;  ( b ) the  teaching  about  the  nature  and  the  classes  of 
the  monads.  It  will  be  followed  by  a critical  estimate  of  the 
system. 

1 Cf.  Appendix,  pp.  483-4.  The  footnotes  of  this  chapter  indicate  the 
sources  on  which  it  is  mainly  based.  The  student  is  advised  to  read  (1) 
“The  Discourse  on  Metaphysics,”  (2)  “Letters  to  Arnaud,”  especially 
VI.,  IX.,  XI.,  and  XIII.  (both  works  obtainable  in  translation  in  a volume 
published  by  the  Open  Court  Company),  (3)  “ Monadology, ” (4)  “The 
New  System.”  Very  useful,  also,  are  (5)  “ Principles  of  Nature  and  Grace” 
and  (6)  the  Introduction  to  the  “ New  Essays.”  The  section  just  cited  of  the 
Appendix  indicates  the  different  editions  and  translations  in  which  these 
works  may  be  found.  When  the  references  of  the  chapter  are  to  numbered 
sections  or  paragraphs,  e.g.  of  the  “Discourse”  or  of  the  “Monadology,” 
the  pages  of  special  editions  are  not  given.  Otherwise  references  are  regu- 
larly to  the  paging  of  the  Gerhardt  edition,  and  occasionally  to  some  one  of 
the  translations. 


The  System  of  Leibniz 


75 


a.  The  argument  for  the  doctrine  that  the  universe  consists 
of  immaterial  monads 

Leibniz  accepts  without  question  Descartes’s  doctrine 
that  I myself  and  other  spirits,  or  souls,  exist.1  Thus,  the 
fundamental  problem  of  philosophy  is  for  him  the  follow- 
ing: is  the  spiritual  the  only  sort  of  reality  or  do  ultimately 
non-spiritual  realities  also  exist?  (Such  realities,  according 
to  Leibniz,  would  be  corporeal  or  bodily;  he  does  not  take 
into  account  the  later  conception  of  a kind  of  reality  neither 
spiritual  or  corporeal,  but  fundamental  to  both.2)  Now  the 
attributes,  according  to  Descartes  and  Hobbes,  of  corporeal 
reality  are  extension,  or  figure,  and  motion.3  The  problem 
from  which  Leibniz  starts  reduces  itself  therefore  to  this: 
are  figure  and  motion  ultimately  real?  This  question  he 
answers  in  the  negative.  Every  extension  is,  in  the  first 
place,  he  points  out,  infinitely  divisible.  There  is  no  surface 
so  small  that  it  is  not  abstractly  possible  to  break  it  up,  in 
conception,  into  smaller  surfaces.  But  endlessness,  Leibniz 
holds,4  is  an  irrational  conception,  therefore  that  which  is 
by  nature  endlessly  divisible  cannot  be  an  ultimate  reality. 
“It  is  impossible,”  he  says,5  “to  find  the  principles  of  a true 
unity  in  matter  alone  . . . since  matter  is  only  a collection  or 
mass  of  parts  to  infinity.”  For,  as  he  elsewhere  says,  “a 
continuum  is  not  only  divisible  to  infinity,  but  every  particle 
of  matter  is  actually  divided  into  other  parts  different  among 
themselves.  . . . And  since  this  could  always  be  continued, 

1 The  terms  ‘spirit,’  ‘soul,’  ‘mind,’  ‘self,’  ‘person,’  ‘I,’ — with  the  ad- 
jectives corresponding  to  many  of  these  expressions, — are  used  by  Descartes 
and  by  Leibniz,  and  in  general  by  the  writer  of  this  book,  as  synonyms. 

2 For  discussion,  cf.  infra,  Chapter  5,  pp.  116  seq. ; Chapter  6,  pp.  179 
seq. ; Chapter  11,  pp.  409  seq. 

3 Of  course  Descartes  regards  motion  as  a form  of  extension. 

4 “Material  atoms  are  contrary  to  reason  ” (“New  System,”  § 11).  Cf. 
discussion  of  Descartes’s  arguments  for  God’s  existence,  supra,  pp.  50  seq. 

5 “New  System,”  § 3,  cf.  § 11;  also,  “Letters  to  Arnaud,”  XVI.,  Ger- 
hardt  edition,  Vol.  II.,  p.  97;  XVII.,  Open  Court  edition,  pp.  191-192. 


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K7S^  V Pluralistic  Spiritualism 

we  should  never  reach  anything  of  which  we  could  say,  here 
is  a real  being.”  1 In  other  words,  since  by  ‘ultimate’  is 
meant  a further  irreducible  reality,  that  which  is  endlessly 
divisible  cannot  be  ultimate. 

ir  is  even  more  obvious  that  motion  is  not  an  ultimate,  a 
self-dependent,  sort  of  reality.  “Motion,”  Leibniz  says, 
“if  we  regard  only  its  exact  and  formal  meaning,  that  is, 
change  of  place,  is  not  something  entirely  real,  and  when 
several  bodies  change  their  places  reciprocally,  it  is  not  pos- 
sible to  determine  by  considering  the  bodies  alone  to  which 
among  them  movement  or  repose  is  to  be  attributed.” 2 
Evidently,  that  which  is  always  relative  to  something  else  is 
not  ultimately  real. 

As  merely  extended  or  moving,  non-spiritual,  or  corporeal, 
things  are  not,  Leibniz  teaches,  ultimately  real.  But  it  is 
possible,  he  suggests,  to  conceive  of  these  non-spiritual  things, 
not  as  static,  but  as  dynamic  realities,  that  is,  as  forces. 
“Motion,”  he  says,  “that  is,  change  of  place,  is  not  something 
entirely  real.  . . . But  the  force  or  the  proximate  cause  of 
these  changes  is  something  more  real.”3 

Motion  and  extension  are  thus  conceived  as  manifestations 
or  expressions  of  an  underlying  force.  According  to  this 
view,  the  universe  would  be  made  up  not  of  spiritual  realities 
together  with  non-spiritual,  extended,  and  moving  things 
but  of  spiritual  realities  together  with  non-spiritual  forces. 
But  when  he  seriously  asks  himself  the  question,  ‘What  is 
force?’  Leibniz  finds  that  he  has  no  definite  conception  of 
force  except  as  spiritual.  The  thought  of  anything  as  a force 
is  a conception  of  it  as  in  some  sense  like  a willing,  striving, 


1 Cf.  “Entretien  de  Philarete  et  d’Ariste,”  Gerhardt  edition,  Vol.  VI., 
P'  579- 

2 “Discourse  on  Metaphysics”  (Gerhardt  edition,  Vol.  IV.,  Open  Court 
edition),  Prop.  XVIII.  Cf.  ibid.,  XVII.,  which  by  showing  that  the  motion 
is  not  always  constant  makes  for  the  doctrine  of  the  relativity  and  the  ulti- 
mate unreality  of  matter. 

3 “Discourse,”  XVIII1.  Here,  it  should  be  noted,  reality  or  substance 
is  treated  as  a cause  of  phenomena. 


The  System  of  Leibniz 


77 


working  self.  Thus,  from  the  conviction  that  the  nature  of 
real  unities  “consists  in  force,  it  follows,”  Leibniz  says, 
“that  it  would  be  necessary  to  conceive  them  in  imitation  of 
the  notion  which  we  have  of  souls.”  1 

Leibniz’s  result  is  the  following:  He  began  by  assuming 
the  existence  of  non-spiritual  realities  — bodies.  He  dis- 
covers that  these  alleged  non-spiritual  things  are  in  their 
ultimate  nature  spiritual.  He  finds  confirmation  of  this 
conclusion  in  Descartes’s  doctrine  about  the  non-spatial 
qualities  of  so-called  corporeal  things.  Descartes  had  ad- 
mitted that  hardness,  color,  sound,  and  the  rest  are  not  the 
qualities  of  ultimately  real  and  non-spiritual  things,  but 
themselves  the  modifications  or  experiences  of  conscious 
minds;  on  the  other  hand,  he  had  insisted  that  extension  is 
the  real  attribute  of  non-spiritual  objects.  Leibniz  argues 
that  extension  and  motion  are  on  a par  with  the  other  quali- 
ties of  supposedly  non-spiritual  things,  and  that  if  color  and 
the  rest  are  modifications  of  spirit,  so,  also,  are  size  and  mo- 
tion. “Size  andmotion.”  he  savs.  “ . . . are  phenomena 
hke  colors  and  sounds  . . . although  they  involve  a more 
distinct  knowledge.”  2 Leibniz  does  not  elaborate  this  teach- 
ing, but  his  meaning  is  clear.  All  that  I know  about  color, 
sound,  and  odor,  and  similarly  all  that  I know  of  exten- 
sion and  motion,  I know  through  perception.  I describe 
my  perception  of  a supposedly  non- spiritual  thing  in  — let 
us  say  — the  assertion,  “I  perceive  a round,  fragrant,  red 
apple.”  But  if  the  assertion  be  challenged, — if  some  one 
else  assert  that  no  round,  red,  and  fragrant  object  is  here,  — ■ 
then  I find  myself  able  to  say  with  assurance  only  this,  that 
I am  conscious  in  definite  ways  which  I describe  as  color, 
smell,  and  form  consciousness.  In  other  words,  that  which 
is  indisputably  real  in  the  thing  turns  out  to  be  a complex 

1 “New  System,”  § 3. 

2 “Letters  to  Arnaud,”  XXII.,  Gerhardt  edition,  Vol.  II.,  p.  xi82; 
XXII.,  Open  Court  edition,  p.  222.  Berkeley  later  reaches  this  conclusion, 
arguing  more  satisfactorily  and  in  more  detail.  Cf.  infra,  pp.  119  seq. 


78 


Pluralistic  Spiritualism 


modification  of  consciousness.  And  it  is  utterly  arbitrary 
to  hold  with  Descartes  that,  whereas  the  redness  and  the  fra- 
grance are  modifications  of  spirit,  the  roundness  is  a non- 
spiritual character.  “He  who  will  meditate,”  Leibniz  says, 
“upon  the  nature  of  substance  1 . . . will  find  that  the  whole 
nature  of  bodies  is  not  exhausted  in  their  extension,  that  is 
to  say  in  their  size,  figure,  and  motion,  but  that  we  must 
recognize  something  which  corresponds  to  soul,  something 
which  is  commonly  called  substantial  form.”  2 “The  essence 
of  the  body,”  he  writes  a little  later  in  a letter  to  Arnaud,3 
“cannot  consist  in  extension,  and  we  must  necessarily  con- 
ceive of  something  which  is  called  substantial  form.”  How 
Leibniz  conceives  this  ‘substantial  form’  is  clearly  shown  in 
another  letter.  “Substantial  unity,”  he  says,  “calls  for  a 
thoroughly  indivisible  being,  naturally  indestructible.  . . . 
This  characteristic  cannot  be  found  either  in  forms  or  mo- 
tions, both  of  which  involve  something  imaginary.  ...  It 
can  be  found,  however,  in  a soul  or  a substantial  form,  such 
as  is  the  one  called  the  I.  These  latter  are  the  only  thor- 
oughly real  beings.”  4 

So  Leibniz  reaches  the  conclusion  that  the  alleged  non- 
spiritual, or  corporeal,  realities  are  in  the  last  analysis 
spiritual.  This  he  argues  on  the  ground  that  a corporeal 
reality  must  be  conceived  either  as  extended  and  moving  or 
as  a force ; that  an  extension  because  endlessly  divisible  and 
a motion  because  always  relative  are  not  ultimate;  that 
extensions  and  motions  accordingly  are  to  be  conceived  as 
effects  or  expressions  of  forces ; finally  that  a force  is  incon- 

1 Leibniz  uses  the  terms  ‘substance’  or  ‘substantial  form’  for  what  I 
have  called  the  ‘fundamental’  or  the  ‘ultimate’  reality.  The  expression 
substantial  form  is  a conscious  paraphrase  of  the  Platonic  eiSos,  and  refers 
to  the  substance  realized-as-ideal,  that  is,  to  the  monad. 

2 “Discourse,”  XII1. 

3 Letter  IX.,  Open  Court  edition,  p.  135.  Cf.  Letter  XIII.,  ibid.,  p.  154  s. 

4 Letter  XIV.,  Open  Court  edition,  p.  161.  Cf.  “Systeme  Nouveau 
(New  System),”  § ir,  “II  y a une  veritable  unite,  qui  repond  h ce  qu’on 
appelle  moi  en  nous.” 


The  System  of  Leibniz 


79 


ceivablo  except  as  spirit.  He  confirms  the  doctrine  by  the 
observation  that  our  only  unchallenged  assertions  about 
extensions  and  motions  — as  about  colors  and  hardnesses  — • 
concern  these  qualities  conceived  as  modifications  of  spirit. 

The  argument  to  show  that  ultimate  reality  is,  all  of  it, 
spiritual  should  be  followed  by  an  attempt  to  prove  the  second 
of  Leibniz’s  fundamental  doctrines,  the  manifoldness,  or 
numerical  plurality,  of  the  universe.  Leibniz,  however, 
never  argues,  he  merely  assumes,  this  fundamental  multi- 
plicity. It  seems  to  him  too  obvious  to  need  argument. 
Evidently,  he  holds,  the  universe,  whatever  its  constitution, 
is  composed  of  many  realities. 


b.  Leibniz’s  doctrine  0}  the  classes  of  monads  and  of  their 

nature 

There  are,  Leibniz  teaches,  four  main  forms  of  monad,  or 
soul-like  reality.  These  are,  the  supreme  monad,  God,  and, 
dependent  on  him,  three  types  of  finite  monad : the  rational 
souls ; the  sentient  but  irrational  monads ; the  bare  or  simple 
monads,  organic  bodies  and  inorganic  masses.1 


1.  The  supreme  monad,  God 

By  God,  the  supreme  monad,  Leibniz  means,  as  Descartes 
had  meant,  an  infinite,  that  is,  utterly  perfect  spirit  — a 
Person  of  absolute  power,  wisdom,  and  goodness.  This  is, 
of  course,  the  traditional  conception  of  God  which  Leibniz 
takes  over  from  his  predecessors.  His  arguments  for  God’s 
existence  closely  resemble  Descartes’s,  though  Leibniz 
himself  lays  undue  stress  on  certain  points  of  difference. 
These  arguments  will  be  later  discussed  in  more  detail. 

1 Cf.  “Monadology,”  19-29;  “Letter  to  R.  C.  Wagner,”  Gerhardt 
edition,  Vol.  VII.,  p.  528;  “Principles  of  Nature  and  Grace,”  4. 


8o 


P luralistic  Spiritualism 


Fundamentally,  they  are  these:  (i)  From  the  possibility 
of  the  conception  of  an  absolutely  perfect  being  follows  the 
existence  of  this  being.  (2)  From  the  fact  that  concrete 
things  and  abstract  truths  exist,  it  follows  that  there  must 
be  a God,  a perfect  being,  as  their  source ; else  there  would 
be  no  sufficient  reason  of  their  existence. 

The  supposed  demonstration  of  God’s  existence  has  im- 
portant consequences  in  Leibniz’s  system.  For  from  God’s 
perfection  it  follows  both  that  the  world  of  his  creation  is  the 
best  possible  world,  and  also  that  all  the  finite  monads  must 
depend  utterly  on  God.  Leibniz’s  view  of  the  nature  of 
God  will  thus  become  more  evident  in  the  course  of  the  dis- 
cussion which  follows,  first  of  the  nature  of  rational,  of  merely 
sentient,  and  of  simple  monads;  and  second,  of  their  rela- 
tions to  God  and  to  each  other. 


2.  The  finite 1 monads 

(a)  The  characters  common  to  all  finite  monads 

By  monad,  Leibniz  means,  as  has  appeared,  a soul-like 
reality  — that  is,  a reality  of  the  nature  of  the  I.  In  my 
knowledge  of  myself,  I have  therefore,  Leibniz  teaches,  the 
key  to  all  reality.  Accordingly,  his  method  of  discovering 
the  characters  of  monads  is  mainly  that  of  discovering  the 
characters  of  the  self.  “ In  order  to  determine  the  concept  of 
an  individual  substance,2  it  is  good,”  he  says,  “to  consult  the 
concept  which  I have  of  myself.”  3 The  characters  which 
Leibniz  attributes  to  all  limited  realities  — or,  in  his  terms, 
to  ‘individual  substances,’  ‘monads,’ — are  the  following: 
(1)  dependence  on  the  supreme  monad,  God;  (2)  activity; 
(3)  separateness  or  isolation;  (4)  the  unification  of  its  own 

1 Cf.  supra,  note  on  p.  34. 

2 Cf.  footnote  on  p.  78. 

3 “Letters  to  Arnaud,”  VIII.,  Gerhardt  edition,  Vol.  II.,  p.  45  2;  Open 
Court  edition,  p.  1162 


The  System  of  Leibniz 


8 1 


experiences;  (5)  the  character  of  expressing  the  universe; 
(6)  the  character  of  being  predetermined  by  God  to  harmony 
with  other  monads. 

(1)  Every  monad  depends  on  God 

Every  monad  is,  in  the  first  place,  Leibniz  teaches,  in  con- 
formity with  his  doctrine  of  God’s  perfect  power,  dependent 
on  God,  the  supreme  monad,  as  its  creator.  Creation  is 
expressly  likened  to  the  production  of  thought;  the  finite 
monad  proceeds  from  God  ‘by  a kind  of  emanation’;  he 
produces  it  “just  as  we  produce  thoughts.”  There  are  many 
individuals,  simply  because  God  “regards  all  aspects  of  the 
universe  in  all  possible  manners”  . . . and  “the  result  of 
each  view  of  the  universe  as  seen  from  a different  position  is 
a substance.”1 


(2)  Every  monad  is  active 

Leibniz  always  asserts,  and  seldom  argues,  the  activity  of 
the  monads.  “Substance,”  he  says  at  the  very  beginning 
of  the  “Principles  of  Nature  and  Grace,”  one  of  the  com- 
pletest  summaries  of  his  teaching,  “is  a being  capable  of 
action.”  But  though  Leibniz  does  not  supply  a definition  of 
activity  or  an  argument  for  it,  most  of  his  readers  will  agree 
with  him  in  assigning  to  the  rational  monad,  the  myself, 
an  aspect  of  spontaneity,  independence,  or  assertiveness 
which  may  well  be  called  activity.  And  empirical  observa- 
tion makes  it  fairly  easy  to  transfer,  in  imagination,  to  corpo- 
real objects  the  activity  originally  realized  as  characteristic  of 
a self.  Leibniz’s  teaching  is  thus  the  common  doctrine  that 
our  notion  of  activity  is  gained  wholly  by  observation  of  our- 
selves; that  in  attributing  activity  to  inanimate  objects  we 

1 “Discourse,”  XIV1.;  cf.  XXXII.  Cf.  also,  “Ultimate  Origination  of 
Things,”  paragraph  8,  Gerhardt  edition,  Vol.  VII.,  p.  302. 


82 


P luralistic  Spiritualism 


really  endow  them  with  the  sort  of  activity  which  we  perceive 
in  ourselves;  and  that,  in  fact,  there  is  no  activity  save  soul 
activity.1 

(3)  Every  monad  is  absolutely  separate  from  every  other 

The  doctrine  that  “every  individual  substance  is  ...  a 
world  apart,  independent  of  everything  else  excepting  God”  2 
is  reiterated  in  each  one  of  Leibniz’s  formulations  of  his 
doctrine:  “A  particular  substance,”  he  says,  in  that 

earliest  of  his  mature  statements  of  doctrine,  the  “Discourse 
on  Metaphysics,”  “never  acts  upon  another  particular  sub- 
stance nor  is  it  acted  on  by  it.”  3 “It  is  not  possible,”  he 
writes,  nearly  ten  years  later,  “.  . . that  any  true  substance 
should  receive  anything  from  without.”  4 “ There  is  no  way,” 
he  says,  in  one  of  the  very  latest  of  his  philosophical  works, 
“of  explaining  how  a monad  may  be  altered  or  changed  in 
its  inner  being  by  any  other  created  thing ; . . . the  monads 
have  no  windows  by  which  anything  may  come  in  or  go  out.”5 
It  will  be  admitted  that  introspection  seems  to  testify  to  the 
fact  that  every  self  is  isolated.  Our 

“.  . . spirits  live  in  awful  singleness, 

Each  in  its  self -formed  sphere  of  light  or  glocm ; ” 

I am  myself,  no  one  else,  a unique  self;  in  being  myself  I 
am  what  nobody  else  is  or  can  be.  I am  conscious,  indeed, 


1 For  criticism,  cf.  summary  of  Hume’s  doctrine;  for  a contemporary  re- 
statement of  the  doctrine,  cf.  Renouvier,  “Le  personnalisme,”  Chapter 
III.,  p.  11. 

2 “Letters  to  Arnaud,”  IX.,  Gerhardt  edition,  Vol.  II.,  p.  57  ; Open  Court 
edition,  p.  133. 

3 “Discourse,”  XIV2.  4 “New  System”  (1695),  § 14. 

5 “Monadology”  (1714),  § 7.  This  last  quotation  introduces  the  name 

by  which  Leibniz  finally  characterized  his  ultimate  realities,  which  he  had 
begun  by  calling  ‘substantial  forms.’  In  calling  them  monads  — that  is, 
singles  or  units  — he  of  course  laid  special  stress  on  their  uniqueness,  their 
separateness,  their  incapacity  of  being  directly  influenced  by  anything  out- 
side themselves. 


The  System  of  Leibniz 


83 


of  a chasm  separating  me  from  all  other  selves ; and  nothing 
can  affect  me  except  what  belongs  to  me  or  is  a part  of  me. 
It  appears,  in  truth,  as  Leibniz  insists,  that  “nothing  can 
happen  to  us  except  thoughts  and  perceptions,  and  all  our 
thoughts  and  perceptions  are  but  the  consequence,  contingent 
it  is  true,  of  our  precedent  thoughts  and  perceptions,  in  such 
a way  that  were  I able  to  consider  directly  all  that  happens 
or  appears  to  me  at  the  present  time,  I should  be  able  to  see 
all  that  will  happen  to  me  or  that  will  ever  appear  to  me. 
This  future  will  not  fail  me,  and  will  surely  appear  to  me  even 
if  all  that  which  is  outside  me  were  destroyed,  save  only  that 
God  and  myself  were  left.”1 

Besides  asserting,  on  the  basis  of  his  knowledge  of  the 
‘myself,’  the  separateness  and  uniqueness  of  the  monads, 
Leibniz  argues  for  this  character  on  the  ground  of  the  rela- 
tion of  the  monads  to  God.  Since  each  monad  is,  in  truth, 
one  of  God’s  views  of  the  universe,  it  must  reproduce  God’s 
characters,  including  his  self-dependence;  it  must,  therefore, 
be  “independent  of  everything  except  God.”  To  this 
reasoning,  Leibniz  adds  the  wholly  insufficient  argument, 
that  because  a monad  cannot  have  “a  physical  influence  on 
the  inner  being  of  another,”  therefore  the  influence  of  one 
monad  on  another  requires  “the  intervention  of  God.” 2 
Of  course,  the  premise  of  this  argument  is  true,  since  so-called 
physical  reality  has  been  proved  to  be  spiritual;  but  the 
possibility  of  a non-physical  influence  of  finite  monad  on 
finite  monad  is  not  thereby  denied.  An  unexpressed  argu- 
ment at  the  base  of  Leibniz’s  doctrine  of  the  isolation  of  the 
monads  may,  however,  readily  be  discerned.  It  is  this: 
multiplicity,  if  fundamental  and  not  superficial,  implies 
separateness.  For  things  which  influence  each  other  are 
not  really  many  realities,  but  rather  parts  of  one  reality,  that 
is,  members  of  a system  or  group.  But  one  of  Leibniz’s 

1 “Discourse,”  XIV2. 

2 “Monadology,”  51.  Cf.  “Principles  of  Nature  and  Grace,”  2 ; “Second 
Explanation  of  the  New  System,”  quoted  injra,  p.  89. 


84 


P hiralistic  Spiritualism 


fundamental  doctrines  is  that  of  the  multiplicity  of  reality. 
In  so  far  as  he  is  justified  in  this  teaching,  he  is  correct  in  the 
logical  inference  from  it  — the  doctrine  that  the  fundamen- 
tally many  realities  are  unique  and  separate.  (It  will  be 
shown,  however,  that  Leibniz  assumes  without  proof  the 
ultimate  multiplicity.) 

It  follows  from  the  isolation  of  the  monad  — as  Leibniz 
does  not  fail  to  point  out  — that  it  is  indissoluble  and  ingen- 
erable.  For  if  incapable  of  being  affected  by  anything 
outside  itself,  it  can  neither  be  ended  nor  could  it  ever  have 
been  begun.  “Only  by  a miracle,”  Leibniz  says,  could  “a 
substance  have  its  beginning  or  its  end.” 


(4)  Every  monad  is  a unity  0}  its  own  states 

“The  individual  concept  of  each  person,”  Leibniz  declares, 
“includes,  once  for  all,  everything  that  can  ever  happen  to 
him.”  1 In  the  end,  this  assertion,  like  all  others  which  con- 
cern the  monads,  is  based  on  the  knowledge  which  each  one 
of  us  has  of  himself : I am,  or  include  within  myself,  all  that  I 
experience ; and  I have  none  the  less  an  identity  in  spite  of 
change;  the  present  I is,  in  a sense,  identical  with  the  I 
which  endured  certain  past  experiences;  and  my  future  ex- 
periences will  be  referred  to  this  same  I.  In  Leibniz’s  own 
words,  therefore,  “it  must  needs  be  that  there  should  be  some 
reason  why  we  can  veritably  say  that  . . . the  I which  was 
at  Paris  is  now  in  Germany.”  2 

But  Leibniz  is  not  satisfied  with  this  mere  appeal  to  expe- 
rience, and  proceeds  to  explain  the  identity  of  the  monad  by 
a logical  analogy.  “My  inner  experience,”  he  says,  “con- 
vinces me  a posteriori  of  this  identity,  but  there  must  also 
be  some  reason  a priori.  It  is  not  possible  to  find  any  other 

1 “Discourse,”  XIII. 

2 “ Letters  to  Arnaud,”  VIII.,  Gerhardt  edition,  Vol.  II.,  p.  43  B Open 
Court  edition,  p.  112. 


The  System  of  Leibniz 


85 


reason,  excepting  that  my  attributes  of  the  preceding  time  and 
state  as  well  as  the  attributes  of  the  succeeding  time  and  state 
are  predicates  of  the  same  subject.  . . . Since  from  the  very 
time  that  I began  to  exist  it  could  be  said  of  me  truly  that  this 
or  that  would  happen  to  me,  we  must  grant  that  these  predi- 
cates were  principles  involved  in  the  subject  or  in  my  complete 
concept,  which  constitutes  the  so-called  I and  which  is  the 
basis  of  the  interconnection  of  all  my  different  states.  These 
God  has  known  perfectly  from  all  eternity.”  1 The  identity 
of  the  self  is  further  shown,  Leibniz  teaches,  by  an  analysis 
of  the  concept  of  change.  For,  in  order  that  there  may  be 
change,  not  mere  succession,  there  must  surely  be  something 
which  changes;  and  this  something  must  be  one  throughout 
its  succeeding  states. 


(5)  Every  monad  minors  or  expresses  all  reality 

But  Leibniz  teaches  not  only  that  a monad  is  a unity  of  all 
its  own  experiences;  besides  these,  “in  its  full  concept  are 
included  ...  all  the  attendant  circumstances  and  the  whole 
sequence  of  exterior  events.”2  “There  was  always,”  Leibniz 
says,  “in  the  soul  of  Alexander  marks  of  all  that  had  hap- 
pened to  him  and  evidences  of  all  that  would  happen  to  him 
. . . for  instance  that  he  would  conquer  Darius  and  Porus .”  3 
Therefore,  “that  which  happens  to  each  one  is  only  the  con- 
sequence of  its  complete  idea  or  concept,  since  this  idea  already 
includes  all  the  predicates  and  expresses  the  whole  universe.”  4 

1 “Letters  to  Arnaud;”  cf.  “Discourse,”  VIII.  Contemporary  com- 
mentators have  shown  that  Leibniz  reached  this  conception  of  the  monad, 
largely  because  of  his  occupation  with  the  logical  relation  of  subject  to 
predicate.  Cf.  “Discourse,”  VIII2.:  “The  content  of  the  subject  must 
always  include  that  of  the  predicate  in  such  a way  that  if  one  understands 
perfectly  the  nature  of  the  subject,  he  will  know  that  the  predicate  apper- 
tains to  it  also.  This  being  so,  we  are  able  to  say  that  this  is  the  nature 
of  an  individual  substance.”  Cf.  Russell,  “The  Philosophy  of  Leibniz,” 
§ 17.  P-  43- 

2 “Discourse,”  IX. 


3 Ibid.,  VIII.,  end. 


Ibid.,  XIV2. 


86 


Pluralistic  Spiritualism 


Leibniz  teaches,  it  thus  appears,  not  only  that  in  a sense  every 
substance  is  absolutely  complete,  but  that  it  expresses  all 
reality. 

For  this  doctrine,  Leibniz  advances  an  argument  like  that 
on  which  he  had  based  his  doctrine  of  the  isolation  of  the 
monads.  Every  monad  is  the  emanation  or  effective  thought 
of  God.  But  God  is  absolutely  perfect  or  complete,  therefore 
that  which  expresses  him  must  share  in  his  completeness. 
“It  is  very  evident,”  Leibniz  says,  in  a passage  already 
quoted  in  part,  “that  created  substances  depend  upon  God 
who  preserves  them  and  can  produce  them  continually  by  a 
kind  of  emanation  just  as  we  produce  our  thoughts,  for  when 
God  turns,  so  to  say,  on  all  sides  and  in  all  fashions,  the  gen- 
eral system  of  phenomena  which  he  finds  it  good  to  produce 
. . . and  when  he  regards  all  the  aspects  of  the  world  in  all 
possible  manners,  . . . the  result  of  each  view  of  the  universe 
as  seen  from  a different  position  is  a substance  which  expresses 
the  universe  conformably  to  this  view,  provided  God  sees  fit 
to  render  his  thought  effective  and  to  produce  the  substance. 
...  It  follows  . . . that  each  substance  is  a world  by  it- 
self.” 1 In  other  words,  because  every  monad  is  one  of  God’s 
ways  of  viewing  the  universe  and  because  God  is  perfect,  or 
complete,  therefore  every  monad  “expresses”  — or,  as  Leib- 
niz often  says  “mirrors”  — “the  whole  universe  according 
to  its  way.”  2 By  this  statement,  Leibniz  explains,  he  means 
that  every  monad,  in  that  it  is  an  I,  is  conscious  of  the  whole 
world  — that,  to  a degree,  it  knows  the  whole  universe.3  In 
my  own  person,  therefore,  I reconcile  the  separateness  and 
the  apparent  harmony  of  the  individual.  I am  my  separate 
isolated  self,  incapable  of  getting  out  of  myself,  or  away  from 

1 “Discourse,”  XIV1. 

2 “Letters  to  Arnaud,”  IX.,  Gerhardt  edition,  Vol.  II.,  p.  57;  Open 
Court  edition,  p.  133. 

3 Ibid.,  XXII.,  Gerhardt  edition,  Vol.  II.,  p.  1 12,  XXIII.,  Open  Court 
edition,  p.  2122:  “Expression  is  common  to  all  forms  and  is  a class  of 
which  ordinary  perception,  animal  feeling,  and  intellectual  knowledge  are 
species.” 


The  System  of  Leibniz 


87 


my  own  experience ; and  yet  I find  myself  conscious  of  other 
selves  and  things.  I mirror  and  portray  the  universe,  in 
knowing  it  — and  yet  my  knowledge  never  takes  me  outside 
my  separate  and  distinct  self. 

This  theory  obviously  involves  two  difficulties.  It  may  be 
true  that  I express  the  universe  by  being  conscious  of  it,  but 
it  is  hard  to  see  how  an  inanimate  object  — say  a rock  — 
expresses  the  universe  in  this  way.1  But  if  Leibniz  has  been 
successful  in  the  proof  that  all  realities  are  souls,  it  must 
follow  that  they  are  conscious.2  A second  problem  is  the 
following : How  can  Leibniz  teach  that  a finite  monad  knows 
the  whole  universe?  For  is  it  not  obvious  that  no  single, 
finite  self,  or  monad,  can  know  the  entire  universe  ? Leib- 
niz answers  squarely  by  reaffirming  that  each  soul  “knows 
the  infinite,  knows  all ; ” 3 and  he  seeks  to  justify  the  teach- 
ing by  insisting  that  we  have  an  indistinct  and  confused  con- 
sciousness of  much  that  we  do  not  clearly  know.  Of  such  a 
character,  he  holds,  is  our  knowledge  of  that  which  we  do  not 
immediately  experience  or  logically  infer.  To  the  considera- 
tion of  both  difficulties  we  shall  later  recur. 


(6)  Every  monad  has  been  predetermined  by  God  to  be  in 
harmony  with  every  other 

The  preestablished  harmony  of  the  monads  is  a theory 
which  Leibniz  formulated  in  the  face  of  the  following  diffi- 
culty: His  doctrine  that  each  monad  expresses  the  entire 
universe  seems  to  oppose  his  equally  emphasized  doctrine 
that  each  monad  is  separate  from  every  other.  He  teaches, 
as  has  just  appeared,  that  given  Adam,  all  the  events  of  the 
universe  are  given,  or  that  given  Alexander,  the  conquest  of 
Darius  is  therewith  assured.  But  if  the  existence  of  Adam  is 

1 Cf.  “Letters  to  Arnaud,”  XIX.,  Gerhardt  edition,  Vol.  II.,  p.  105, 
XX.,  Open  Court  edition,  p.  2032  (from  Arnaud  to  Leibniz),  to  show 
that  this  difficulty  was  felt  by  Arnaud. 

2 Cf.  infra,  p.  95.  3 “Principles  of  Nature  and  Grace,”  § 13 2. 


88 


Phiralistic  Spiritualism 


implied  by  my  existence,  it  may  well  be  urged  that  Adam  and 
I are  not  absolutely  separated  and  independent  of  each  other. 
It  may  be  urged,  also,  that  the  interrelatedness  of  minds,  or 
spirits,  with  things  is  at  least  as  obvious  to  ordinary  observa- 
tion as  their  separateness.  I am  not  merely  conscious  of  my 
isolation,  I am  equally  conscious  of  my  vital  connection  with 
the  other  spirits  of  my  world.  I live  not  only  in  ‘awful 
singleness,’  but  in  close  relation  to  these  other  spirits;  and 
this  must  mean,  it  is  urged,  that  I affect  them  and  am  in  turn 
influenced  by  them.  To  such  mutual  influence,  not  to  a per- 
fect isolation,  all  the  facts  of  social  intercourse  — for  example, 
question  and  answer,  and  cooperation  in  labor  — seem  to  bear 
witness.  So-called  physical  realities,  also,  are  closely  bound 
together  in  the  relation  of  cause  and  effect,  so  that  from  the 
condition  of  one  object  we  may  actually  infer  that  of  another. 
All  these  commonplaces  of  observation  tell  against  Leibniz’s 
doctrine  of  the  isolation  of  realities;  and  he  himself  admits 
this  apparent  interconnection,  saying  that  “phenomena 
maintain  a certain  order  conformably  to  our  nature  (from 
whence  it  follows  that  we  can  . . . make  useful  observations, 
which  are  justified  by  the  outcome  of  the  future  phenom- 
ena).” 1 

Leibniz’s  way  of  reconciling  these  apparently  opposed 
characters  of  monads,  their  isolation  and  their  conformity  of 
behavior,  is  by  what  is  known  as  his  doctrine  of  preestab- 
lished harmony:  God,  from  whom  each  of  the  created 
monads  emanates,  as  a thought  from  its  thinker,  has  so  con- 
ceived, or  created,  each  soul,  that  each  of  its  thoughts  and  per- 
ceptions shall  correspond  with  each  of  the  changes  in  all  the 
other  monads  which  together  constitute  the  universe  as  finite. 
“God,”  he  says,  “has  first  created  the  soul,  or  any  other  real 
unity,  so  that  everything  shall  grow  out  of  its  own  depth,  by 
a perfect  spontaneity  on  its  own  part  and  yet  with  a 
perfect  conformity  to  outside  things.  . . . And  so  it  comes 


1 “Discourse,”  XIV. 


The  System  of  Leibniz 


89 


about  that,  though  each  of  these  substances  exactly  repre- 
sents the  universe  after  its  manner  and  according  to  a certain 
point  of  view,  . . . and  though  the  perceptions  or  expressions 
of  external  things  arrive  in  the  soul  in  virtue  of  its  own  laws, 
. . . and  as  if  there  existed  nothing  save  God  and  the  soul  — 
still,  there  will  be  a perfect  accord  among  all  these  substances, 
which  produces  the  same  effect  as  if  they  communicated  with 
each  other.  ...  It  is  this  mutual  relation,  regulated  in  ad- 
vance, within  each  substance  of  the  universe,  which  brings 
about  what  we  call  their  communication.”1 

In  replying  to  the  difficulties  found  by  Foucher2  in  this 
system  of  preestablished  harmony,  Leibniz  made  use  of  an 
illustration  which  at  once  associated  itself  with  every  state- 
ment of  the  theory.  “Imagine,”  he  says,  “two  clocks  and 
watches  which  keep  exactly  the  same  time.  Now  this  may 
come  about  in  three  ways.  The  first  is  that  of  mutual  in- 
fluence ; the  second  is  to  put  them  in  charge  of  a clever  work- 
man who  shall  keep  them  in  order  and  together,  at  every 
moment ; the  third  is  to  make  the  two  timepieces  with  such 
art  and  precision  that  one  assures  their  keeping  time  together 
in  the  future.  Now  put  the  mind  and  the  body  in  place  of 
these  two  clocks;  their  accord  may  come  about  in  one  of 
these  three  ways.  The  theory  of  influence  is  that  of  the  every- 
day philosophy;  but  since  one  cannot  conceive  of  material 
particles  which  could  pass  from  one  of  these  substances  to  the 
other,  this  conception  must  be  abandoned.  The  theory  of 
the  continual  assistance  of  the  Creator  is  that  of  the  system  of 
occasional  causes ; but  I hold  that  this  is  to  make  God  inter- 
vene, as  a Deus  ex  machina,  in  a natural  and  ordinary  situation 
where,  according  to  reason,  he  ought  to  cooperate  only  as  he 
does  in  all  other  natural  phenomena.  Therefore  there  re- 
mains only  my  hypothesis,  that  of  harmony.  From  the  begin- 
ning, God  has  made  each  of  these  two  substances  of  such  a 
nature  that  in  following  only  its  own  laws,  received  with  its 


1 “New  System,”  14. 


2 Journal  des  Savants , 12  September,  1695. 


90 


Pluralistic  Spiritualism 


being,  it  none  the  less  is  in  harmony  with  the  other,  just  as  it 
would  be  if  they  mutually  influenced  each  other.”  1 The 
relatedness  of  the  different  monads  is  thus,  fundamentally, 
an  “interconnection  among  the  resolutions  of  God.”  2 

( b ) The  classes  oj  created  monads 
(x)  The  rational  monads:  conscious,  moral  selves 

By  rational  monad,  Leibniz  means  such  a self,  or  spirit,  as 
any  human  being  knows  itself  to  be : Leibniz,  Spinoza,  or  the 
Electress  Sophia.  Leibniz  does  not  argue  for  the  existence 
of  the  rational  self,  but  asserts  it  on  the  unimpeachable  tes- 
timony of  consciousness.  The  existence  of  many  human 
selves,  other  than  the  mere  myself,  Leibniz  usually  assumes, 
for  it  does  not  occur  to  him  that  this  could  be  questioned.  Yet 
his  teaching  that  a varied,  multiple  universe  follows  from  the 
infinite  variety  of  God’s  perfections  offers  a general  argu- 
ment for  the  multiplicity  of  selves.  From  all  other  finite 
substances,  the  rational  monads  are  distinguished  by  the  clear- 
ness and  distinctness  of  their  consciousness.  This  cardinal 
difference  implies  two  contrasts.  Rational  selves  alone  have 
reason,  in  addition  to  perception  and  memory;  and  rational 
selves  alone  are  morally  free  and  responsible.  The  char- 
acter of  freedom  involves  such  difficulty  that  it  must  be  con- 
sidered at  more  length. 

Rational  monads,  Leibniz  teaches,  incline  to  “choices 
under  no  compulsion  of  necessity.”  So  far  as  this  means 
merely  that  a rational  being  is  under  no  compulsion  from 
other  finite  beings,  it  is  of  course  entirely  consistent  with 

1 “Second  Explanation  of  the  New  System.”  Note  that  Leibniz  applies 
the  theory  explicitly  to  the  relation  of  a soul  to  its  body. 

2 “Letters  to  Arnaud,”  VIII.,  Gerhardt  edition,  Vol.  II.,  p.  37;  Open  Court 
edition,  p.  104.  Cf.  Letter  IX.,  Gerhardt  edition,  Vol.  II.,  p.  48;  Open  Court 
edition,  p.  120.  This  form  of  words  is  a more  accurate  expression  of  Leib- 
niz’s apparent  meaning  than  that  of  the  “ Monadology,”  which  speaks  of  the 
“relationship  ...  of  things  to  each  other.” 


The  System  of  Leibniz 


9i 


Leibniz’s  teaching.  But  Leibniz  seems  to  mean  more  than 
this,  namely,  that  the  individual,  rational  soul,  and  not  God, 
is  author  of  its  own  choices.1  The  proof  he  offers  for  the 
theory  is  the  attempted  demonstration  that  the  acts  of  the 
finite  rational  self  are  contingent  acts,  therefore  not  necessary, 
therefore  free.  To  prove  the  acts  of  every  rational  being 
contingent,  Leibniz  makes  and  emphasizes  the  contrast  be- 
tween necessary  truths,  or  truths  of  reason  as  he  calls  them, 
whose  opposite  is  not  possible,  and  contingent  truths,  whose 
opposite  is  possible.2  The  truths  of  geometry  — for  example, 
the  theorem  that  the  sum  of  the  angles  of  a triangle  is  equal  to 
two  right  angles  or  the  theorem  that  alternate  internal  angles 
are  equal  — are  examples  of  necessary  truths : their  opposite 
is  inconceivable.  On  the  other  hand,  the  fact  that  Leibniz 
visited  Spinoza  in  The  Hague  is  a contingent  truth ; for  Leib- 
niz might  ‘possibly’  have  found  Spinoza  at  Amsterdam,  or 
he  might  have  gone  from  Paris  to  Hanover  without  visiting 
Spinoza.  From  this  justifiable  distinction  between  necessary 
and  contingent  truths,  Leibniz  then  draws  the  following  con- 
clusion : the  acts  of  a rational  being  can  be  imagined  as  differ- 
ent from  what  they  actually  are,  — that  is,  their  opposite  is 
conceivable,  or  possible ; therefore  these  acts  are  contingent, 
and  as  contingent  they  are  free,  not  necessary.  But  this 
conclusion  is  invalidated  by  the  ambiguity  of  the  word  ‘pos- 
sible.’ Leibniz  uses  it  first  as  equivalent  to  ‘conceivable,’ 
that  is,  ‘imaginable,’  and  second  as  equivalent  to  ‘contingent,’ 
that  is,  ‘not  necessary.’  Now,  in  the  first  sense,  the  opposite 
of  a given  action  certainly  is  ‘ possible  ’ — that  is,  one  may 
always  imagine  a given  person  as  behaving  otherwise  than  in 
the  way  in  which  he  actually  behaves ; for  example,  one  may 
imagine  Leibniz  as  going  not  to  The  Hague  but  directly  to 

1 “Discourse,”  XIII.,  XXX.,  XXXI.;  cf.  “Theodicy,”  e.g.  Abrege, 
Objections  4 and  5. 

2 Cf.  “Discourse,”  XIII.,  and  “Theodicy,”  cited  above.  Cf.  “New 
Essays,”  Bk.  I.,  for  a discussion  of  truths  of  reason  and  truths  of  fact  without 
special  reference  to  this  bearing  of  the  doctrine  on  the  freedom  conception. 


92 


P luralistic  Spiritualism 


Hanover.  Butit  is  illogicaltoarguefrom  the  fact  that  one  may 
imagine  Leibniz  as  going  to  Hanover  on  a certain  day,  to  the 
conclusion  that  it  was  really  possible  for  him  to  go  to  Hanover 
on  that  day.  In  truth,  this  conclusion  seems  wholly  incon- 
sistent with  Leibniz’s  teaching  that  both  Leibniz  and  Spinoza 
were  created  by  God,  and  that  it  was  contained  in  God’s 
conception  of  both  philosophers  that  they  should  meet,  in 
1676,  at  The  Hague.1 

It  must  be  admitted,  then,  that  Leibniz  does  not  prove  that 
the  acts  of  rational  beings  are  contingent,  or  free.  Yet  he 
holds  to  the  doctrine  of  freedom,  doubtless  because  only  so 
can  he  reconcile  the  fact  of  moral  evil  with  his  doctrine  of  the 
goodness  of  God,  and  because,  also,  the  belief  in  freedom  and 
responsibility  seems  to  him  necessary  to  the  moral  life  of 
rational  selves.2  In  this  mainly  unargued  conviction  the 
force  of  Leibniz’s  doctrine  of  freedom  really  lies ; and  on  the 
facts  of  the  moral  consciousness  an  argument  for  freedom, 
far  stronger  than  his,  may  be  based. 


(2)  The  sentient  monads:  irrational  souls 

Leibniz  sharply  distinguishes  the  merely  sentient,  irrational 
souls  of  animals  from  the  rational,  self-conscious  souls  of 
human  beings.  Animals’  souls,  he  teaches,  have  perception 
and  memory,  but  they  have  neither  explicit  self-consciousness 
nor  reason  nor  moral  freedom.  The  difference  is,  he  holds, 
a difference  in  clearness  of  perception : both  animal  and 
rational  souls  perceive,  and  thus  express,  the  whole  universe, 
but  the  animal  souls  only  confusedly.3  This  important 
distinction  of  clear  from  confused  consciousness  will  be  con- 

1 Leibniz  himself  seems  to  the  writer  virtually  to  admit  this  by  his  teach- 
ing that  ‘contingent’  truths  are  certain.  Cf.  “Discourse,”  XIII.,  XXX., 
XXXI. 

2 Cf.  infra,  Chapter  7,  pp.  259  seq. ; and  Chapter  n,  pp.  446  seq.  On 
the  teaching  of  Leibniz,  cf.  Russell,  op.  cit.,  §118. 

3 “Principles  of  Nature  and  Grace,”  4 and  5. 


The  System  of  Leibniz  93 

sidered  in  discussing  Leibniz’s  doctrine  of  the  third  group  of 
created  monads. 


(3)  The  simple  monads 

Simple  monads,  according  to  Leibniz,  constitute  the  reality, 
as  distinct  from  the  appearance,  of  what  are  known  as  organ- 
ized bodies  and  masses  of  inorganic  matter.  Corresponding 
to  my  idea  of  my  own  body  or  of  my  hat  there  is  something  real 
— or,  more  definitely,  a collection  of  reals.  These  realities 
are  simple  monads,  perceptive,  soul-like  substances,  each  an 
active,  complete,  isolated  expression  of  the  universe.  It  is 
essential  to  the  understanding  of  Leibniz  to  realize  that  he 
never  teaches  that  to  each  animal  or  inorganic  body,  as  it 
appears  to  us,  there  corresponds  but  one  monad,  or  soul. 
Such  a view,  he  holds,  is  contradicted  by  the  fact  that  every 
material  body  is  subject  to  division  and  to  transformation: 
a block  of  marble,  for  example,  may  be  split  into  smaller 
blocks,  and  animal  bodies  may  be  mutilated  or  even  reduced 
to  ashes.1  If  a body,  as  it  appears  to  us,  were  a soul,  it  would 
follow  then  that  the  soul  is  divisible  and  destructible  — for 
Leibniz,  an  impossible  conclusion.  Leibniz,  in  fact,  regards 
every  body,  organic  and  inorganic,  not  as  itself  a monad, 
but  as  an  idea  in  our  minds  to  which  corresponds  a constantly 
changing  collection  of  simple  monads.  These  simple  monads 
are  in  continual  flux,  forming  part  now  of  one  body,  now  of 
another,  and  changing  place  either  “little  by  little,  but  con- 
tinuously,” as  in  nutrition,  or  “all  at  one  time,”  as  in  con- 
ception or  in  death.2 

The  only  sense  in  which  the  particular,  animal  body,  thus 
conceived,  may  be  said  to  have  unity  is  because  of  the  subordi- 
nation of  the  simple  monads,  which  compose  it,  to  the  sentient 
soul,  or  dominating  monad.  With  this  meaning,  Leibniz 

1 Cf.  the  detailed  discussion  of  this  subject  in  the  “Letters  to  and  from 
Arnaud,”  XI.,  XIII.,  XIV.,  XVI.,  XVII.,  XX.,  XXIII. 

2 “Principles  of  Nature  and  Grace,”  6. 


94 


P luralistic  Spiritualism 


says,  in  the  “Letters  to  Amaud”  :*  “A  body  is  an  aggregation 
of  substances,  and  is  not  a substance,  properly  speaking.” 
“Bodies  by  themselves,  without  the  soul,”  he  says  in  a 
slightly  earlier  letter,2  “have  only  a unity  of  aggregation,  but 
the  reality  which  inheres  in  them  comes  from  the  parts  which 
compose  them  and  which  retain  their  substantial  unity 
through  the  living  bodies  that  are  included  in  them  without 
number.”3 

It  is  not  hard  to  assign  a reason  for  Leibniz’s  teaching  that 
inorganic  and  organic  bodies  represent  a distinctive  reality. 
There  must  exist,  Leibniz  argues,  realities  corresponding 
with  our  sense  ideas  or  percepts.  It  is  natural  to  believe  that 
these  realities  behind  sense  ideas  are  things  independent 
of  consciousness,  but  Leibniz  has  argued  that  non-spiritual 
realities,  whether  conceived  as  extensions  or  as  forces,  are 
illusions,  and  that  monads,  soul-like  substances,  are  the  only 
realities.  Berkeley,  as  will  later  appear,  in  face  of  this  situa- 
tion, boldly  claims  that  God  is  the  reality  behind  the  external 

1 Letter  XXVI.,  March  23,  1690,  Gerhardt  edition,  Vol.  II.,  p.  13s3; 
Open  Court  edition,  p.  2442. 

2 Letter  XVII.,  April,  1687,  Gerhardt  edition,  Vol.  II.,  p.  1001;  Open 
Court  edition,  p.  195. 

3 In  discussing  with  Des  Bosses  the  dogma  of  the  ‘real  presence’  in  the 
Eucharist,  Leibniz  develops  another  doctrine  of  the  relation  of  the  organic 
body  to  the  soul.  In  this  view,  mind  and  body  form  together  a substance 
which  has  unity.  (Cf.  “Epistolae  ad  Des  Bosses,”  Gerhardt  edition,  Vol.  II., 
pp.  291  seq.)  Such  a theory  appears  to  the  writer,  and  to  many  students  of 
Leibniz,  to  be  quite  at  variance  withhis  fundamental  teaching.  It  is  certainly 
possible  to  regard  it  as  an  unintentional  misrepresentation  by  Leibniz,  of  his 
own  teaching,  a misreading  due  to  his  constant  impulse  toward  harmonizing 
diverse  systems  and  to  his  special  effort  to  persuade  Des  Bosses  that  Leibnizian 
metaphysics  does  not  oppose  Romanist  theology.  It  is  only  fair  to  add,  how- 
ever, that  two  critics,  Jacobi  and  Kuno  Fischer,  look  upon  this  second  theory 
as  representative  of  Leibniz’s  real  teaching;  and  that  the  “Letters  to  Arnaud” 
contain  — side  by  side  with  the  unequivocal  expressions,  already  quoted,  of  the 
body-aggregate  theory  — certain  apparent  implications  of  the  view  that  soul 
and  body  together  make  a unity.  (Cf.  Letters,  Gerhardt  edition,  pp.  119, 
752;  Open  Court  edition,  pp.  223b  1592.)  The  interpretation  given  in  this 
chapter  is  that  of  Erdmann.  For  a clear  statement  of  the  issues  of  the  con- 
troversy, cf.  Russell,  op.  cit.,  Chapter  12,  § 89  seq. 


The  System  of  Leibniz 


95 


thing,  and  regards  the  thing  as  God’s  idea  which  he  shares 
with  me d But  Leibniz,  holding  closer  to  the  analogy  of  self- 
consciousness,  preserves  for  the  ‘external’  object  a peculiar 
reality,  a distinct  soul  of  its  own.  The  difference,  he  teaches, 
between  the  simple  and  the  sentient  monad,  the  so-called 
material  thing  and  the  self  (animal  or  human),  is  simply  in 
the  degree  of  the  consciousness  possessed  by  each.  The 
simple  monad,  like  the  sentient  monad,  is  ‘perceptive’  — 
Leibniz  never  wavers  in  this  declaration  — else  it  would  lose 
its  soul-like  character,  but  its  perception  is  so  indistinct,  so 
confused,  that  the  simple  monad  is  fairly  called  insentient  — 
a ‘sleeping’  monad,  as  Leibniz  often  says.1 2 

To  show  the  plausibility  of  this  conception  of  the  so-called 
inanimate  world  as  peopled  with  very  dimly  conscious  souls, 
Leibniz  recurs  again  and  again  to  the  difference,  observed  by 
each  one  of  us,  between  the  attentive  and  the  inattentive 
consciousness.  “There  are  a thousand  indications,”  he 
says,  “leading  to  the  conclusion  that  at  every  moment  there 
are  within  us  an  infinity  of  perceptions,  but  without  appercep- 
tion and  reflection,  that  is  to  say,  that  there  are  changes  in 
the  soul  which  we  do  not  apperceive,  because  the  impressions 
are  too  small  or  too  numerous  or  too  united,  so  that  nothing 
distinguishes  them.  ...  So,  habit  prevents  our  noticing 
the  movement  of  a mill  or  of  a waterfall  when  we  have  for 
some  time  lived  beside  it.  It  is  not  that  this  movement  does 
not  always  strike  upon  our  organs  and  that  there  does  not 
occur  something  in  the  soul  corresponding  thereto,  . . . but 
these  impressions  are  not  strong  enough  to  draw  our  attention 
and  our  memory.”  3 The  perceptiveness  of  the  simple  monad 

1 Cf.  infra,  p.  139.  Leibniz  admits  the  possibility  of  this  conception,  in 
the  case  of  imagination.  Cf.  “Letters  to  Arnaud,”  XII.,  Gerhardt  edition, 
Vol.  II.,  p.  732;  XIII.,  Open  Court  edition,  p.  1562. 

2 It  must  be  observed  that  modern  psychologists  would  use  the  terms 
‘sentient’  and  ‘perceptive’  in  a precisely  reversed  sense. 

3 “New  Essays,”  Preface,  paragraph  6 seq.,  Langley,  p.  47s  seq. 
Leibniz  complicates  this  sound  psychological  doctrine  of  the  distinction 
between  attentive  and  inattentive  consciousness,  by  the  untenable  teaching 


g6  P hiralistic  Spiritualism 

is  parallel,  therefore,  to  our  own  inattentive,  sleepy,  unre- 
membered  consciousness.  In  other  words,  Leibniz  teaches 
that,  corresponding  with  every  so-called  percept  of  an  object 
that  I have,  there  exists  a confusedly  conscious  soul,  or  collec- 
tion of  souls.  And,  to  say  the  least,  he  shows  the  possibility 
of  other-than-human-and-animal  souls. 

We  may  well  linger  over  the  completed  outline  of  Leibniz’s 
picture  of  the  universe.  It  is  a living,  spiritual  world  of  ac- 
tive forces,  or  souls,  each  complete  in  itself  and  working  out 
its  own  ends  in  obedience  to  its  own  laws,  each  distinct  from 
every  other,  yet  harmonized  with  all  the  rest  in  its  purpose  and 
in  its  capacity  to  mirror  all  the  universe.  The  creator  and 
harmonizer  of  all  these  spiritual  forces  is  the  supreme  monad, 
God,  a conscious  being  of  absolute  power,  wisdom,  and  good- 
ness. And  closest  to  him  in  the  scale  of  perfection  are  the 
free,  self-conscious  souls,  forming,  as  Leibniz  says,  a ‘repub- 
lic of  spirits’  of  whom,  none  the  less,  God  is  monarch.1 


II.  Critical  Estimate  of  the  System  of  Leibniz 

From  this  summary  of  the  principal  teachings  of  Leibniz, 
it  is  evident  that  Leibniz  agrees  with  Descartes  and  with 
Hobbes  in  conceiving  the  universe  as  made  up  of  many  in- 
dividuals. The  system  of  Leibniz  is,  in  other  words,  numeri- 

that  there  must  be  a consciousness,  however  faint,  corresponding  with  every 
distinguishable  part  of  a physical  stimulus.  “To  hear  the  roar  of  the  sea,” 
he  continues  in  the  passage  quoted  above,  “I  must  hear  the  partial  sounds 
which  produce  it,  that  is,  the  noise  of  each  wave.”  The  tendency  of  modern 
psychology  is  to  condemn  this  doctrine  and  to  teach  that  a stimulus  must 
attain  a given  strength  before  it  is  accompanied  by  any  consciousness,  and 
that  perception  due  to  a composite  stimulus  is  not  perception  of  every  con- 
stituent of  that  stimulus.  (Cf.  James,  “Principles  of  Psychology,”  l.,p.  154.) 
The  teaching  of  Leibniz  on  this  subject  has,  it  must  be  observed,  contributed 
to  the  misrepresentation  of  his  doctrine.  For  the  comparison  of  the  simple 
monad’s  perceptions  with  the  sentient  soul’s  relations  to  the  indistinguishable 
parts  of  a physical  stimulus  has  made  it  easy  to  regard  the  simple  monad 
unconscious  — a doctrine  quite  at  variance  with  the  teaching  of  Leibniz. 

1 “Discourse,”  XXXVI. 


The  System  of  Leibniz 


97 


cally  pluralistic ; indeed,  Leibniz  lays  far  greater  stress  than 
Descartes,  or  even  Hobbes,  on  the  multiplicity  of  the  universe 
and  on  the  consequent  uniqueness  and  separateness  of  the 
individuals  who  constitute  it.  In  contrast  with  Descartes, 
and  in  agreement  with  Hobbes,  Leibniz  further  teaches  that 
there  is  but  one  kind  of  reality  — in  other  words,  his  philoso- 
phy is  qualitatively  monistic.  But  in  strong  opposition  to 
Hobbes,  Leibniz  holds  that  this  one  kind  of  reality  is  imma- 
terial or  ideal.  Whereas  Hobbes  formulates  a pluralistic 
materialism,  Leibniz  teaches  a pluralistic  idealism  — and 
more  definitely,  a spiritualism.  Both  by  his  monism  and 
by  his  idealism  Leibniz  meets  real  difficulties  in  the  systems 
of  his  predecessors.  His  monism,  that  is,  his  teaching  that 
all  real  beings  are  fundamentally  of  one  sort,  spiritual,  avoids 
the  absurdity  of  Descartes’s  doctrine  that  bodies  and  spirits, 
though  unlike  and  utterly  independent,  none  the  less  affect 
each  other,  and  avoids  as  well  the  difficulty  in  Descartes’s 
teaching  that  extension  only,  of  all  the  qualities  of  corporeal 
bodies,  is  independent  of  mind.  And  Leibniz’s  idealism 
meets  also  the  inconsistencies  and  difficulties  of  the  material- 
ism of  Hobbes. 

But  Leibniz’s  system  must  be  estimated,  not  only  by  a 
valuation  of  its  results,  in  comparison  with  the  conclusions  of 
his  predecessors,  but  by  a scrutiny  of  the  cogency  of  his  argu- 
ments. Thus  estimated,  his  philosophy  is  frankly  disap- 
pointing, largely  because  of  the  unsystematic  development  of 
his  thought  and  expression.  Indeed,  the  value  of  Leibniz 
consists  rather  in  the  presentation  of  his  own  insights  than  in 
the  organized  argument  for  his  conclusions.  Here  and  there, 
it  is  true,  for  specific  parts  of  his  doctrine,  he  attempts  detailed 
proof ; but  often  serious  argument  fails  altogether,  often  it 
is  barely  suggested,  not  sufficiently  developed,  often,  finally, 
the  validity  of  his  argument  cannot  be  admitted.  This  gen- 
eral comment  must  be  made  good  by  re-stating,  summarizing, 
and  supplementing  the  criticisms  made  already  on  Leib- 
niz’s arguments.  It  is  perhaps  unnecessary  to  remind  the 

H 


98 


Phiralistic  Spiritualism 


/\ 


reader  that  criticism  at  this  stage  of  our  study  must  be  pro- 
visional only,  and  that  it  must  wait  for  completion  on  a wider 
and  deeper  acquaintance  with  philosophical  systems.  Such 
criticism  may  be  based  on  the  following  brief  outline  of  the 
doctrine,  which  omits  entirely  the  discussion  of  subordinate 
questions,  even  when  they  are  intrinsically  important. 

According  to  Leibniz, 


A.  The  ultimately  real  is 

I.  Immaterial 
II.  Multiple 

B.  The  many,  immaterial  beings  (monads)  include 

I.  God,  the  perfect  monad 


II. 


I a.  Rational 
Created  spirits  I and  free 
(sentient  souls)  ] b.  Sentient 
I only 


1 Dependent 
on  God 


III.  Simple  monads 
(insentient  but 
perceptive) 


Harmonious 

Expressing 

universe 


Active 

Separate 


One 


a.  Estimate  oj  Leibniz’s  doctrine  of 
and  manifold 


reality  as  immaterial 


The  first  doctrine  to  be  estimated  is,  it  is  evident,  the 
teaching  that  the  ultimately  real  is  immaterial.  The  signifi- 
cance of  Leibniz’s  adoption  of  idealistic  doctrine  is  the  greater, 
because  Leibniz  was  no  mere  metaphysician.  As  he  him- 
self says,  he  “departed  very  young  from  the  domain  of  the 
scholastics,”  charmed  by  the  “beautiful  way”  in  which  the 
mathematicians  and  the  physicists  explained  nature.1  Both 
to  mathematics  and  to  physics  Leibniz  made  contributions  of 
the  highest  value;  and  to  mechanical  laws  — which  he  con- 
ceived as  ordered  ways,  in  which  ‘ material  ’ reality,  the 
mass  of  simple  monads,  appears  to  us2 — he  always  attrib- 
uted a great,  though  a subordinate,  importance.  Thus 


1 “New  System,”  2. 


2 Ibid.,  2 and  17. 


The  System  of  Leibniz 


99 


Leibniz’s  deliberate  conclusion  that  force,  the  physical  ulti- 
mate, is  spiritual  in  nature  has  peculiar  value  in  that  it  is  the 
conclusion  of  a man  who  is  scientist  as  well  as  philosopher. 

The  writer  of  this  book  accepts  Leibniz’s  doctrine,  that  the 
real  is  the  immaterial,  and  accepts  the  assertions  on  which  it 
is  based  : (i)  the  assertion  that  extension  and  motion  are  not 
ultimately  real  but  manifestations  of  a deeper  reality  — either 
of  force  or  of  spirit;  (2)  the  assertion  that  force  can  be  con- 
ceived only  as  spiritual.  But  Leibniz  barely  indicates  the 
arguments  for  these  conclusions,  leaving  to  later  philosophers 
the  detailed  and  explicit  demonstration  of  his  results.  He 
might  have  argued  in  detail,  as  Berkeley  did,  for  the  doc- 
trine that  extension  is  on  a par  with  color,  sound,  and  the 
other  non-spatial  qualities  admitted  to  be  modifications  of 
spirit.  He  might  also  have  examined  the  current  concep- 
tions of  force,  and  could  then  have  shown  that  to  the  mate- 
rialist ‘ force  ’ really  meant  no  more  than  either  (1)  motion,  or 
else  (2)  the  unknown  cause  of  physical  phenomena.  In  the 
first  sense,  however  (as  Leibniz  might  have  proved),  force 
would  be,  like  extension,  coordinate  with  the  admittedly  ideal 
qualities  of  color  and  the  rest.  In  the  second  sense,  ‘force’ 
would  mean  ‘cause  of  ideas,’  and  therefore,  because  related 
to  ideas,  force  could  not  be  material  in  the  full  sense  of  the 
term,  since  it  would  not  be  unrelated  to  consciousness.1  To 
recapitulate:  though  Leibniz  might,  in  the  opinion  of  the 
writer,  have  justified  the  idealistic  monism  of  his  system, 
though  he  might,  in  other  words,  have  proved  what  he 
taught,  that  reality  is  through  and  through  immaterial,  yet  he 
never  carries  out  this  proof  with  sufficient  clearness  and  detail. 

The  second  part  of  Leibniz’s  teaching  is  the  doctrine  that 
the  universe  consists,  ultimately,  of  many  distinct  beings. 
This  doctrine,  also,  is  insufficiently  established.  For  Leib- 
niz bases  it  on  superficial  observation  and  on  defective  argu- 
ment. He  urges  in  its  favor,  first,  the  mere  observation  that 


1 For  development  of  these  arguments,  cf.  injra , pp.  128  seq.,  174  seq. 


IOO 


P luralistic  Spiritualism 


there  are  many  different  beings  in  the  world ; and  second,  the 
argument  that  every  finite  being  must  be  ultimately  different 
",  from  every  other,  since  each  is  a distinct  expression  of  the 
nature  of  God.1  But  the  undeniable  fact  that  we  observe 
many  people,  things,  and  thoughts  does  not  disprove  the  pos- 
sibility that  these  are  ultimately  parts  of  one,  including  being. 
And  the  argument  based  upon  the  relation  of  each  finite  being 
to  God  is  invalidated  by  the  inconclusiveness,  which  will  next 
be  set  forth,  in  Leibniz’s  arguments  for  God’s  existence.  In 
technical  terms,  once  more,  the  numerical  pluralism  of  Leib- 
niz, like  that  of  his  predecessors,  is  not  satisfactorily  demon- 
strated. He  takes  for  granted  and  does  not  prove  the  exist- 
ence of  an  ultimate  multiplicity  of  monads  — utterly  isolated 
beings. 

From  this  comment  on  the  foundation  of  Leibniz’s  teaching, 
it  is  necessary  next  to  consider  his  specific  doctrines  about  the 


Leibniz’s  arguments  for  the  existence  of  God  must  first  be 
considered,  for  from  the  existence  of  God,  the  supreme  monad, 
a being  infinite,  eternal,  and  perfect  — that  is,  an  all-powerful, 
an  all-knowing,  and  an  absolutely  good  spirit  — follow,  as 
has  appeared,  many  of  the  characters  of  the  other  monads. 
Leibniz’s  arguments,  it  will  be  observed,  bear  so  strong  a 
likeness  to  those  of  Descartes  that  they  need  not  be  discussed 
in  detail.  Like  those,  they  are  of  two  sorts,  ontological  and 
cosmological,  or,  in  Leibniz’s  terms,  ‘a  priori'1  and  ‘a  pos- 
teriori.' 


Leibniz’s  statement  of  the  ontological  argument  is  the 
following:  “God  alone  (or  the  Necessary  Being)  has  this 
prerogative  that  if  he  be  possible  he  must  necessarily  exist,  and 


monad  doctrine. 


b.  Estimate  of  Leibniz's  doctrine  concerning  God 


1 Cf.  supra,  pp.  83  seq. 


The  System  of  Leibniz 


IOI 


as  nothing  is  able  to  prevent  the  possibility  of  that  which  in- 
volves no  bounds,  no  negation,  and  consequently  no  contra- 
diction, this  alone  is  sufficient  to  establish  a priori  his 
existence.”  1 This  statement  of  the  ontological  proof  supple- 
ments that  of  Descartes  by  giving  reason  why  the  idea  of  God, 
alone  among  other  ideas,  contains  the  idea  of  necessary  exist- 
ence.2 The  reason  is  simply  this,  that  no  contradiction  is 
involved  in  the  idea  of  a perfect  being.3  Leibniz’s  meaning  is 
clearly  the  following:  We  may  rightly  question  whether 
there  corresponds  to  our  idea  of  a given  limited  reality  any 
existing  thing;  for  not  only  are  some  ideas  obviously  self- 
contradictory,— as,  for  example,  the  idea  of  a square  circle, — 
but  even  such  an  idea  of  a particular  thing  as  has  seemed 
to  involve  no  contradiction  may  prove  self-contradictory, 
since  some  of  its  supposed  characters  may  turn  out  to  be  in- 
compatible with  others.  But  I mean  by  God  a perfect  being, 
one  possessed  of  all  positive  characters,  therefore  no  char- 
acter asserted  of  him  can  contradict  another.  In  other 
words,  the  idea  of  God  involves  necessary,  because  uncon- 
tradictable,  existence ; hence  — as  Descartes  had  argued  — 
God  necessarily  exists. 

Leibniz  adds  nothing  to  the  ontological  argument  save  this 
reason  for  asserting  that  the  idea  of  God  includes  that  of  nec- 
essary existence.  There  are  difficulties  in  the  teaching,  but 
comment  upon  it  is  needless,  for  it  after  all  leaves  the  onto- 
logical proof  in  essentials  unchanged : Leibniz  still  argues 
from  my  idea  of  a necessarily  existent,  perfect  being  to  the 
actual  existence  of  that  being;  and  the  objection  therefore 
holds  against  him  which  was  urged  against  Descartes.  What 

1 “ Monadology,”  45;  cf.  “Discourse,”  XXIII. 

2 Leibniz,  however,  is  hardly  justified  in  claiming  this  as  an  entirely  novel 
teaching.  For  Descartes  had  clearly  suggested  it  in  his  “Reply  to  the  Second 
Objections  to  the  Meditations.”  Cf.  supra,  pp.  47  seq. 

3 The  context  makes  it  clear  that  Leibniz  uses  the  term  ‘possible’  in  this 
sense  of  ‘ without  self-contradiction.’  When  therefore  he  goes  on  to  say  that 
God  “involves  no  bounds,  no  negation,”  he  doubtless  means  that  God 
includes  all  qualities  or  characters. 


102 


Pluralistic  Spiritualism 


Leibniz  claims  to  prove  is  that  the  idea  of  uncontradictable, 
and  thus  of  necessary,  existence  belongs  to  God.  What  he 
does  not  and  cannot  prove  is  that  God,  though  conceived  as 
necessarily  existing,  does  for  that  reason  necessarily  exist. 

Besides  this  a priori,  or  ontological,  argument  for  God’s 
existence,  Leibniz,  like  Descartes,  lays  stress  on  a causal  or, 
as  he  calls  it,  an  a posteriori  argument.  The  argument  is 
twofold : it  is  necessary,  Leibniz  teaches,  to  infer  God’s 
existence  as  explanation,  first  of  contingent  things,  and  sec- 
ond, of  eternal  truths.  The  assumption  on  which  both  these 
arguments  depend  is  known  by  Leibniz' as  the  “principle  of 
sufficient  reason.”  He  lays  great  stress  upon  it  throughout 
his  writing,  always  treating  it  in  connection  with  the  “prin- 
ciple of  contradiction”  as  a self-evident  and  unquestionable 
truth.  “Our  reasoning,”  he  says,  “is  based  upon  two  great 
principles : first  that  of  contradiction,  by  means  of  which  we 
decide  that  to  be  false  which  involves  contradiction,  and  that 
to  be  true  which  contradicts  or  is  opposed  to  the  false.  And 
second,  the  principle  of  sufficient  reason,  in  virtue  of  which  we 
believe  that  no  fact  can  be  real  or  existing  and  no  statement 
true  unless  it  has  a sufficient  reason  why  it  should  be  thus  and 
not  otherwise.”  1 The  principle  of  sufficient  reason  is  thus 
identical  with  Descartes’s  postulate  of  an  ultimate  cause. 
Like  that,  it  contains  two  parts : first,  the  teaching  that  every 
finite  being  has  a cause  — that  no  limited  being  can  be  con- 
ceived, except  as  linked  to  some  cause  of  itself;  and  second, 
the  unproved  assumption  that  there  must  exist  some  ultimate, 
satisfactory  — in  Leibniz’s  term,  sufficient  — cause. 

There  are  “two  kinds  of  truth,”  Leibniz  teaches,2  which 
must  have  a sufficient  reason.  These  are  the  truths  “of 
reason  and  those  of  fact.”  By  truths  of  fact,  he  means 
simply  external  things  and  ideas,  “bodies  and  the  representa- 
tions of  them  in  souls.”  3 And  for  the  whole  “sequence  of 

1 “Monadology,”  31-32;  cf.  “Principles  of  Nature  and  Grace,”  7. 

2 “Monadology,”  33. 

3 “Principles  of  Nature  and  Grace,”  8. 


The  System  of  Leibniz 


103 


the  things  which  extend  throughout  the  universe,”  1 there 
must  be  a sufficient  reason;  in  other  words,  it  would  be 
“possible  to  one  who  adequately  knew  to  give  a sufficient 
reason  why  things  are  as  they  are  and  not  otherwise.”  2 But 
no  one  fact,  whether  external  or  internal,  can  be  sufficiently 
explained  by  another  fact,  for  the  alleged  explanation  will 
itself  need  explanation  and  will  not  be  ultimate.  In  the  words 
of  Leibniz:  “Though  the  present  motion  . . . comes  from 
the  preceding  one,  and  that  from  the  still  preceding  one, 
we  gain  nothing  however  far  back  we  go,  for  there  remains 
always  the  same  question.  Thus  it  is  necessary  that  the  suf- 
ficient reason,  which  has  no  more  need  of  another  reason, 
should  be  found  outside  the  series  of  contingent  things,  in  a 
substance,  which  is  cause  of  the  contingent  things,  — that  is, 
in  a necessary  being  carrying  in  itself  the  reason  of  its  exist- 
ence : otherwise  there  would  still  be  no  sufficient  reason  at 
which  one  could  end.  Now  this  last  reason  of  things  is  called 
God.”  3 And  God  must  be  existent,  Leibniz  sometimes  adds, 
since  existent  things  demand  an  existent  cause.  (This  last 
stage  of  the  reasoning,  from  existent  things  to  existent  cause, 
is  evidently  based  on  Descartes’s  principle,  already  criticised, 
that  the  cause  must  contain  at  least  as  much  reality  as  the 
effects.) 

But  God’s  existence  is  not  merely  necessary,  Leibniz 
teaches,  to  explain  the  existence  of  concrete,  finite  things, 
‘truths  of  fact’;  it  is  required,  also,  to  account  for  the  exist- 
ence of  necessary  truths,  ‘truths  of  reason.’  These  truths  of 
reason,  truths  for  example  of  geometry  or  of  arithmetic,4  are, 
he  insists,  actual  facts  of  our  experience;  we  are  as  truly 

1 “Monadology,”  36.  2 “Principles  of  Nature  and  Grace,”  7. 

r 3 “Nature  and  Grace,”  8.  Cf.  “Ultimate  Origination  of  Things,” 
where,  as  in  “Monadology,”  39,  Leibniz  adds  to  this  reasoning  an  argument, 
from  the  fact  of  the  connection  among  finite  beings,  to  prove  that  this  ‘last 
reason  of  things’  is  a single  Being  ( une  seule  source).  Cf.,  also,  p.  51,  foot- 

note ; and  notice  that  Leibniz,  like  Descartes,  often  seems  to  confuse  the  con- 
ception of  the  temporally  first  cause  and  the  ultimate  cause. 

4 Cf.  “New  Essays,”  Introduction,  paragraph  3. 


104  P lurcilistic  Spiritualism 

conscious  that  s3=27  as  that  a room  is  cold.  They  are 
distinguished  in  two  ways  from  contingent  facts.  The 
certainty  of  them  is  not,  in  the  first  place,  derived  from  repe- 
tition of  experience ; the  sum  of  the  angles  of  a triangle  is  as 
certainly  known  to  be  two  right  angles  in  the  first  apprehen- 
sion of  the  theorem  as  at  any  later  time,  whereas  one’s  cer- 
tainty of  any  sense-truth,  as  that  the  sun  will  set  every  twenty- 
four  hours,  is  dependent  on  frequent  repetition.  It  follows 
that  one’s  certainties  of  fact  are  not  universal:  in  Nova 
Zembla,  for  example,  the  sun  does  not  set  once  in  twenty- 
four  hours;  whereas  the  truths  of  reason  are  everywhere 
cogent.  Truths  of  reason  are  distinguished,  in  the  second 
place,  Leibniz  teaches,  from  truths  of  fact,  on  the  ground  that 
“they  are  necessary,  and  their  opposite  is  impossible,” 
whereas  truths  of  fact  “are  contingent  and  their  opposite  is 
possible.”  1 Now  the  peculiar  reality  of  these  truths  of 
reason  can  be  accounted  for,  Leibniz  teaches,  only  if  they  are 
regarded  as  dependent  in  a special  way  on  God.  The  pe- 
culiar reality  which  distinguishes,  for  example,  my  conviction 
that  2X2  = 4,  from  my  belief  that  it  will  stop  snowing,  must 
lie  in  the  truth  that  the  former  idea  is  a truth  of  God’s  mind. 
In  this  sense,  Leibniz  calls  the  understanding  of  God  “the 
region  of  the  eternal  truths.”  2 “It  needs  must  be,”  he  says, 
“that  if  there  is  a reality  ...  in  the  eternal  truths,  this 
reality  is  based  upon  something  existent  and  actual,  and,  con- 
sequently, in  the  existence  of  the  necessary  Being  in  whom 
essence  includes  existence.”  3 

The  difficulties  with  these  causal  arguments  for  God’s 
existence  have  really  been  indicated  in  the  criticism  upon 

1 “ Monadology,”  33.  Cf.  “Discourse,”  XIII.  It  has  been  shown 
already  (cf.  p.  91)  that  the  opposite  of  contingent  truth  is  possible  only  in 
the  sense  of  being  imaginable. 

2 Ibid.,  43. 

3 Ibid.,  44.  In  spite  of  this  doctrine  that  eternal  truths  depend  for  their 
reality  on  God,  Leibniz  teaches  that  the  eternal  truths  are  not  arbitrary 
and  do  not  depend  on  God’s  will  (“Monadology,”  46).  He  never  completely 
coordinates  these  two  views.  Cf.  Russell,  op.  cit.,  pp.  178  seq. 


The  System  of  Leibniz 


105 


Descartes.  The  postulate  of  both  arguments,  the  assumption 
that  things  and  truths  must  have  not  merely  a cause,  but  an 
ultimate  cause,  has  first  to  be  questioned.  For  it  is  not 
proved  by  Leibniz,  any  more  than  by  Descartes,  that  an 
ultimate  cause,  or  sufficient  reason,  for  everything  must  exist. 
Both  Leibniz  and  Descartes  show,  it  is  true,  that  a reason  is 
always  sought,  and  that  a finite  reason  must  be  insufficient ; 
but  neither  proves,  though  in  the  view  of  the  writer  both 
might  have  proved,  that  a sufficient  reason  is  inevitably  to 
be  found.  But  waiving  this  objection,  and  admitting  the 
necessity  for  an  ultimate  cause,  another  difficulty  must  be 
pointed  out.  On  Leibniz’s  principles,  such  a sufficient  cause 
must  be  distinct  from  the  finite  things  — in  other  words, 
must  be  possessed  of  the  monad’s  distinctness  — and  must 
even  be  outside  the  series  of  finite  things.  This  second 
character  follows  from  the  fact  that  an  ultimate,  a satisfac- 
tory, a sufficient,  cause  must  be  itself  uncaused.  But  if  the 
sufficient  reason  be  both  distinct  from  the  finite  things  and 
out  of  the  series  of  them,  surely  it  cannot  be  related  to  them 
as  their  cause.  The  dilemma  seems  a hopeless  one : if  the 
ultimate  cause  be  in  any  sense  in  the  series  of  the  finite  things, 
it  is  itself  in  need  of  a cause,  in  other  words,  it  is  not  really 
r ultimate;  if,  on  the  other  hand,  the  supposed  cause  be  outside 
\ the  series  of  finite  things  and  distinct  from  them,  it  cannot  be 
related  to  them  at  all,  and  evidently  therefore  cannot  be  the 
/ 1 cause  of  them.1 

To  this  estimate  of  Leibniz’s  argument  for  God’s  existence 
^ should  be  added  a criticism  of  his  conception  of  God’s  nature. 
Like  Descartes,  Leibniz  holds  that  the  perfection,  or  complete- 
ness, of  God  involves  his  goodness.  But  this  conception  has 
peculiar  difficulties,  because  God’s  perfect  goodness,  in  con- 
junction with  his  absolute  power,  seems  incompatible  with 

1 The  only  escape  from  this  dilemma  is  through  the  conception  of  God 
as  the  One  Reality  of  which  finite  things  are  the  partial  expression.  Cf. 
Chapters  8,  10,  n,  pp.  286  seq.,  378  seq.,  418  seq.  Cf.  also  Kant’s  attempt  to 
escape  the  dilemma  by  the  doctrine  of  the  two  causalities. 


106  Pluralistic  Spiritualism 

r 

the  flagrant  misery  and  evil  of  the  world.  Leibniz  tries  in 
many  ways  to  meet  the  difficulty.  He  suggests,  for  example, 
that  the  unhappiness  of  rational  souls  may  be  balanced  by  the 
happiness  of  a greater  number  of  irrational  souls,  or  that  the 
unhappiness  of  any  individual  may  be  overbalanced  by  the 
higher  quality  of  his  happiness.  He  urges  also  that  evil  may 
be  only  partial,  in  other  words,  a transcended  element  in  the 
good.1  No  one  of  these  assertions,  every  careful  reader  of 
Leibniz  will  admit,  is  conclusively  proved;  and  Leibniz  in 
the  end  always  gives  up  the  task  of  explaining  how  unhap- 
piness and  sin  may  be  reconciled  with  the  goodness  of  an  all- 
powerful  God,  contenting  himself  with  the  insistence  that 
God  must  be  good,  because  he  is  perfect  (complete),  and  that 
his  created  universe,  in  spite  of  appearances,  must  be  good 
at  heart.2 

The  result  of  this  criticism  is  to  admit  that  Leibniz  has  not 
proved  the  existence  of  God.  Yet  it  must  be  pointed  out  that 
he  has  at  least  a greater  right  than  Descartes  to  the  ontologi- 
cal and  to  the  causal  arguments.  The  ‘ontological  proof’ 
argues  from  idea  to  reality;  and  for  Descartes,  who  held  that 
a portion  of  reality  is  non-spiritual,  this  inference  from  idea  to 
reality  is  obviously  less  valid  than  for  Leibniz,  to  whom  the 
whole  universe  is  ideal.  Again,  when  the  ‘causal  proof’ 
maintains  that  there  is  a sufficient  reason  for  each  finite  fact, 
Descartes’s  system  leaves  a loophole  for  the  fear  that  this 
principle  of  sufficient  reason  may  not  apply  to  that  foreign 
sort  of  reality,  body.  Leibniz  meets  no  such  difficulty,  since 
it  is  at  least  likely  that  his  spiritual  world  is  a reasonable 
world.  In  a word,  Leibniz’s  proofs  of  God’s  existence, 
though  as  they  stand  inadequate,  are  entirely  consistent  with 

1 Leibniz’s  discussion  of  evil  is  inost  complete  in  his  “Theodicy.”  Cf., 
also,  the  “Abrege”  (“Abbreviation  of  the  Theodicy”),  Gerhardt  edition. 
Vol.  VI.,  pp.  376  seq. 

2 Cf.  “Abbreviation  of  Theodicy,”  Objection  VII.,  Reply:  “One 

judges  [the  plan  of  the  universe]  by  the  outcome  . . . ; since  God  makes 
it,  it  was  not  possible  to  make  it  better.”  For  the  fuller  discussion  of 
this  problem,  cf.  Chapter  ii,  pp.  430  seq. 


The  System  of  Leibniz 


#> 


idealistic  doctrine.  Indeed,  it  well  may  be  that  philosophers 
after  Leibniz  will  discover  God  as  deepest  reality  and  ulti- 
mate explanation  of  the  universe. 


c.  Estimate  oj  Leibniz's  doctrine  oj  the  finite  monads 

The  failure  of  Leibniz  to  prove  the  existence  of  God 
undermines  the  rest  of  his  teaching,  for  to  him  the  universe  is 
a concourse  of  souls,  ranging  from  rational  to  insentient, 
with  the  supreme  soul,  God,  as  its  creator,  preserver,  and 
monarch.  From  God  emanates  each  soul,  rational  or  insen- 
tient; to  God  is  due  the  completeness  and  the  harmony  of 
the  souls,  each  utterly  isolated  from  all  save  God;  and  to 
God’s  perfection  is  due  the  ultimate  goodness  of  this  often  so 
evil-appearing  world.  In  more  detail:  those  characters, 
attributed  by  Leibniz  to  the  finite  monads,  which  he 
argues  on  the  ground  of  God’s  existence,  must  be  yielded 
as  unproved.  First  of  these,  obviously,  is  the  dependence  on 
God:  Leibniz’s  universe,  with  God  left  out,  is  a world  of 
self-dependent  and  coordinate  spirits.  And  the  other  charac- 
ters which  Leibniz  attempts  to  prove,  from  the  relation 
of  the  limited  monads  to  God,  are  their  perfect  harmonious- 
ness, their  completeness,  their  capacity  to  express  the  entire 
universe,  and  even  their  isolation  from  each  other.1  It 
follows,  if  Leibniz  has  not  succeeded  in  proving  God’s  ex- 
istence, that  he  has  left  these  characters  of  his  monads 
unsupported. 

It  must  be  noted,  in  the  second  place,  that  the  doctrine 
of  the  activity  and  of  the  internal  unity  of  each  monad  is  un- 
affected by  the  failure  to  prove  God’s  existence  and  the  con- 
sequent relation  of  the  monad  to  God,  for  these  characters, 
as  has  been  shown,  are  established  by  self-observation:  I 

1 For  the  isolation  of  the  monads  he  has  also  the  insufficient  argument 
which  consists  in  the  disproof  of  physical  influence  (cf.  supra,  p.  83) ; and 
the  unexpressed  argument  from  the  (unproved)  ultimate  multiplicity  of  the 
monads. 


io8 


P luralistic  Spiritualism 


know  myself  as  an  active  self,  a unit  of  all  my  own 
experiences.  And  so  far  as  Leibniz  has  established  a 
right  to  conceive  the  universe  as  ultimately  spiritual,  he 
is  justified  in  conceiving  every  real  being  as  active,  and 
as  internally  a unity.  It  is  possible  on  Leibniz’s  principles 
to  rescue  two  more  characters  of  the  monads:  their  har- 
moniousness, and  their  isolation  if  that  is  not  conceived  as 
absolute.  For  both  characters  are  established  by  the 
certainty  I have  of  my  own  experience.  The  facts  of  my 
social  consciousness  — the  observed  sympathy,  imitation,  and 
loyalty,  inherent  in  me  — indicate  that  I am  a related  self, 
not  a lonely  self;  and  yet  my  aggressiveness,  my  inde- 
pendence, and  my  sense  of  responsibility  mark  the  distinct- 
ness of  myself  from  other  selves.  A monad,  then,  if  it  is 
a soul-like  reality,  must  possess  a relatedness,  and  a relative 
distinctness,  as  well. 

The  results  of  this  commentary  on  Leibniz’s  doctrine  con- 
cerning the  nature  of  the  monads  is,  then,  the  following: 
In  the  writer’s  opinion,  Leibniz  rightly  holds,  however  inef- 
fectively he  argues,  that  each  monad  is  one  and  is  active ; he 
rightly  holds  that  it  stands  in  relation  to  other  monads  and  that 
it  yet  is  unique  among  them ; he  fails  to  complete  his  proof 
that  there  exists  a God  on  whom  each  monad  is  dependent; 
nor  does  he  prove  that  each  monad  completely  includes  and 
expresses  the  universe,  and  that  it  is  utterly  separate  from 
every  other  monad  and  unaffected  by  it.  To  have  pictured 
in  ineradicable  outlines  a universe  of  unique  yet  related  spirits 
is  thus  the  unassailable  value  of  Leibniz’s  philosophy.  He 
did  not,  it  is  true,  complete  the  building  of  his  city  of  spirits. 
It  was  left  to  succeeding  philosophers  to  lift  the  breastworks 
of  his  argument  and  to  bridge  the  chasms  of  his  doctrine. 
More  literally:  Berkeley  first  among  modem  philosophers 
elaborated  and  expanded  Leibniz’s  argument  against  ma- 
terialism ; and  the  idealists  since  Kant’s  day  have  at  least  ap- 
proached more  nearly  than  Leibniz  approached  both  to  the 
reconciliation,  within  the  finite  self,  of  uniqueness  with  related- 


The  System  of  Leibniz  109 

ness,  and  to  a cogent  argument  for  the  existence  of  a complete 
Self.  But  we  should  be  untrue  to  history  if  we  failed  to  trace 
to  its  source  in  Leibniz’s  writings  one  of  the  most  significant 
tendencies  in  contemporary  philosophy — the  emphasis  upon 
the  truth  of  personality. 


J 

CHAPTER  V 

PLURALISTIC  SPIRITUALISM  ( Continued ):  THE  SYSTEM 
OF  BERKELEY 

“ Berkeley  . . . the  truest,  acutest  philosopher  that  Great  Britain  has 
ever  known.”  — G.  S.  MORRIS. 

The  problems  of  philosophy  which  have  so  far  been  con- 
sidered are  fundamentally  these  two:  how  many  kinds  are 
there  of  ultimate  reality?  and  what  are  these  kinds?  The 
earliest  answer  of  modern  philosophy  to  both  questions  is 
formulated  in  the  pluralistic  dualism  of  Descartes,  which 
teaches  that  there  are  two  kinds  of  reality,  spiritual  and  ma- 
terial. But  the  impossibility  of  accounting  for  the  relation  of 
two  ultimately  separate  kinds  of  reality,  and  the  equal  im- 
possibility of  regarding  them  as  unrelated,  lead  Hobbes  and 
Leibniz  to  answer  differently  the  first  of  the  questions  and  to 
acknowledge  but  one  kind  of  reality,  instead  of  two.  In 
other  words,  Hobbes  and  Leibniz  replace  Descartes’s  qualita- 
tive dualism  by  a qualitative  monism.  To  the  question,  of 
what  nature  is  this  one  reality,  they  offer  different  answers. 
The  universe  consists  of  corporeal  bodies,  says  Hobbes.  The 
universe  is  made  up  of  conscious  beings,  soul-like  substances, 
Leibniz  answers. 

All  these  philosophers,  Descartes  and  Hobbes  and  Leibniz, 
despite  their  varying  beliefs  about  the  kinds  of  reality,  — one 
or  two,  corporeal  or  spiritual,  — none  the  less  agree  in  the 
assumption  that  the  universe,  the  all-of-reality,  is,  numerically 
considered,  a plurality.  They  agree,  in  other  words,  that  the 
universe  is  constituted  by  a multitude  of  individuals,  spiritual 
and  material,  or  only  spiritual,  or  only  material ; and  Leibniz, 

no 


The  System  of  Berkeley 


hi 


indeed,  lays  especial  stress  on  the  plurality  of  the  unique 
individuals.  A radically  new  movement  in'philosophy  might 
then  be  initiated  by  raising  the  question : is  the  plurality  of 
individuals  fundamentally  real  ? or  are  they  but  the  manifes- 
tations of  an  underlying  One,  of  a single,  ultimately  real  be- 
ing?1 But  George  Berkeley,  the  philosopher,  whose  system 
we  are  next  to  study,  does  not  raise  this  new  question.  Nor 
has  he  any  distinctively  new  answer  to  the  question,  how 
many  and  what  kinds  of  reality?  He  assumes,  as  his  pred- 
ecessors have  assumed,  that  the  all-of-reality  consists  of  a 
multitude  of  individuals;  and  he  teaches  that  these  individ- 
uals are  immaterial.  His  system  is,  in  other  words,  like 
those  of  all  his  predecessors,  numerically  pluralistic.  Like 
that  of  Leibniz,  it  is  qualitatively  monistic  and  spiritualistic. 

It  has  been  the  fashion  of  certain  critics  to  undervalue 
Berkeley’s  speculative  strength,  to  view  his  philosophy  as 
the  natural  attempt  of  a churchman  and  bishop  to  establish 
the  theology  of  his  sect,  and  to  regard  his  philosophical  writ- 
ings, like  his  political  tracts,  as  effervescence  of  the  missionary 
zeal  of  an  orthodox  and  philanthropic  Irishman.  A care- 
ful reading  of  the  works  of  Berkeley  suffices  to  refute  this 
estimate.  His  thought  is  indeed  incomplete,  but  it  is  inde- 
pendent and  creative.  Historically  his  system  is  neither  a 
reenforcement  of  Leibniz’s  teaching  nor  a reaction  from  the 
materialistic  pluralism  of  Hobbes.  It  is,  rather,  a correction 
of  the  dualism  of  Berkeley’s  predecessor,  John  Locke.  The 
philosophy  of  Locke  need  not  be  set  forth  in  any  detail,  for  in 
essentials  it  repeats  Descartes’s  teaching.  Like  Descartes, 
Locke  taught  that  the  universe  consists  of  a multitude  of 
finite  substances,  spiritual  and  material,  subordinated  to  one 
infinite  spirit,  God.  Locke  reached  these  conclusions  much 
as  Descartes  did,  though  the  emphasis  of  his  teaching  is 
sometimes  different.  The  most  significant  of  these  differ- 
ences is  his  analysis  of  material  substance.  Descartes  had 

1 For  discussion  of  the  system  of  Spinoza,  who  had  already  considered 
this  problem,  cf.  Chapter  8. 


1 1 2 P hiralistic  Spiritualism 

attributed  to  matter  but  the  one  quality,  extension ; Locke, 
on  the  contrary,  teaches  that  the  essential  — or,  as  he  calls 
them,  the  ‘ primary  ’ — qualities  of  material  substances  are 
extension,  with  its  modifications,  and  solidity.1  Furthermore, 
Locke  lays  more  emphasis  than  Descartes  lays  on  the  impor- 
tant teaching  that  all  other  so-called  qualities  of  bodies  — 
color,  sound,  odor,  and  the  like  — do  not  really  belong  to 
material  substances.  On  the  contrary  they  are,  so  he 
holds,  mere  sensations  in  us  produced  by  the  primary 
qualities  of  material  things,  “i.e.  by  the  bulk,  figure,  texture, 
and  motion  of  [their]  insensible  parts.”  2 That  is,  Locke 
teaches,  as  Descartes  had  taught,  that  real  bodies,  or  material 
things,  are  without  color  or  sound  or  fragrance:  they  are 
mere  masses  of  colorless,  extended,  solid,  and  moving  par- 
ticles, which  produce  in  us  (i)  ideas  resembling  these  quali- 
ties— ‘primary’  ideas  of  extension,  solidity,  and  motion; 
and  (2)  ideas  unlike  the  qualities  themselves,  ‘secondary’3 
ideas  of  color,  fragrance,  and  the  like. 

Berkeley’s  point  of  departure  is  this  distinction  between 
qualities  and  ideas.  He  takes  issue  with  Locke  mainly  by 
teaching  that  even  the  primary  qualities  are  ideal.  In  other 
words,  Berkeley  teaches  that  extension  and  solidity,  as  well 
as  color  and  sound,  are  ideas  of  the  mind.  Thus,  he  reduces 
the  material  part  of  Locke’s  universe  to  immaterial  reality, 
and  turns  things  into  thoughts,  somewhat  as  Leibniz  had 
transformed  Descartes’s  corporeal  bodies  into  simple 
monads. 


1 Cf.  Appendix,  p.  493k 

2 “Essay  concerning  Human  Understanding,”  Bk.  II.,  Chapter  8, 
paragraph  10. 

3 Locke  himself  does  not  speak  of  primary  and  secondary  ideas,  but  of 
primary  and  secondary  qualities.  He  calls  the  powers  of  the  primary 
qualities  to  produce  ideas  unlike  themselves  the  ‘ secondary  quali- 
ties’ of  material  things.  It  is,  however,  more  in  accord  with  his  teach- 
ing to  apply  the  terms  ‘primary’  and  ‘secondary’  (as  this  text  does),  not  to 
qualities,  but  to  ideas.  (Cf.  Locke’s  admission,  “Essay,”  Bk.  II.,  Chapter  8, 
paragraph  8,  that  he  confuses  the  terms  ‘quality’  and  ‘idea.’) 


The  System  of  Berkeley 


ii3 


I.  Berkeley’s  Doctrine  of  the  Reality  immediately 
known  : Myself  and  My  Ideas  1 

“It  is  evident  to  any  one,”  Berkeley  says,  at  the  beginning 
of  his  “Principles  of  Human  Knowledge,”  “that  the  objects 
of  human  knowledge  are  ideas.  . . . But,  besides  all  that 
endless  variety  of  ideas  or  objects  of  knowledge,  there  is 
likewise  something  which  knows  or  perceives  them  . . . 
what  I call  mind,  spirit,  soul,  myself.”  According  to 
Berkeley,  therefore,  I know  myself  in  knowing  my  ideas. 
He  goes  on  to  distinguish  the  I,  or  myself,  from  the  mere  suc- 
cession of  ideas.  “I  know  or  am  conscious  of  my  own  being; 
and  that  I myself  am  not  my  ideas  but  somewhat  else,  a think- 
ing, active  principle  that  perceives,  knows,  wills,  and  operates, 
about  ideas.  I know  that  I,  one  and  the  same  self,  perceive 
both  colors  and  sounds:  that  a color  cannot  perceive  a 
sound,  nor  a sound  a color:  that  I am  therefore  one  indi- 
vidual principle,  distinct  from  color  and  sound ; and,  for 
the  same  reason  from  all  other  ....  ideas.”  2 

It  is  important  to  observe  that  Berkeley  does  not  seek  to 
establish  the  existence  of  a self  deeper  than  its  own  ideas  in 
any  other  way  than  by  a direct  appeal  to  consciousness.  He 
holds  that  each  man  has  an  immediate,  that  is,  an  unreasoned, 
certainty  of  his  own  existence.3  And  it  should  be  added  that 
whoever  denies  the  existence  of  himself  can  go  no  step  further 

1 This  study  of  Berkeley’s  doctrine  is  based  on  his  “Principles  of  Human 
Knowledge”  (1710),  and  his  “Dialogues  between  Hylas  and  Philonous” 
(1713).  One  of  these  little  books,  or  preferably  both,  should  be  read  before 
entering  upon  this  chapter.  The  relatively  disproportionate  length  of  this 
exposition  of  Berkeley’s  teaching  is  due  in  part  to  the  peculiar  fitness  of  these 
texts  to  introduce  students  to  idealistic  doctrine. 

2 “Dialogues  between  Hylas  and  Philonous,”  III.,  Open  Court  edition, 
pp.  95-96. 

3 It  should  be  carefully  noted  that  this  doctrine  does  not  deny  the  occur- 
rence of  a mediated,  reflected-on,  consciousness  of  myself.  Such  a reflective 
consciousness  we  all  gain.  The  core  and  centre  of  it  is,  however,  that  imme- 
diate awareness  of  self  which  is  the  guarantee  of  its  own  validity.  (On 
immediacy,  cf.  A.  E.  Taylor’s  “Elements  of  Metaphysics,”  pp.  30,  32.) 


Pluralistic  Spiritualism 


114 

with  Berkeley,  for  every  other  positive  doctrine  of  his  system 
rests  upon  the  acknowledgment  of  the  existence  of  this  self. 
The  writer  of  this  book  believes,  with  Descartes  and  Berkeley, 
that  introspection  testifies  to  the  existence  of  such  a self ; 
that  in  every  pulse  of  consciousness  one  is  certain  of  a self 
which  ‘is  conscious’  or  ‘has  ideas.’1 

Before  discussing  in  greater  detail  the  characteristics  attrib- 
uted by  Berkeley  to  ‘myself’  (the  subject  of  knowledge), 
it  is  necessary  to  consider  his  analysis  of  the  ‘objects  of  my 
knowledge,’  my  ideas.  This  discussion  will  involve  certain 
rather  barren  technicalities,  but  these  are  necessary  to  a real 
understanding  of  Berkeley,  and  will  form  but  a brief  intro- 
duction to  the  discussion  of  more  vital  subjects.  Berkeley 
seems  to  group  ideas  (in  the  sense  of  ‘objects  of  knowledge’) 
into  two  classes:  first,  ideas  (in  a narrower  sense) ; and,  second, 
notions.  He  further  subdivides  ideas,  in  the  narrower  sense, 
into  two  classes:  (1)  ideas  ‘actually  imprinted  on  my  senses,’ 
without  ‘dependence  on  my  will’;  and  (2)  ideas  excited  b_y 
me  ‘in  my  mind’  at  pleasure,  that  is,  ideas  of  imagination. 
The  ‘ideas  of  sense’  he  describes  as  ‘more  strong,  lively,  and 
distinct  than  those  of  the  imagination,’  adding  that  “they 
have  likewise  a steadiness,  order,  and  coherence.” 2 Of 
‘notions,’  also,  Berkeley  recognizes  two  classes:  (1)  notions 
“of  our  own  minds,  of  spirits,  and  actiyc  beings,  whereof  in  a 
strict  sense  we  have  not  ideas,”3  and  (2)  notions  “of  relations 
between  things  and  ideas,  which  relations  are  distinct  from  the 
ideas  or  things  related.”  4 This  enumeration  of  the  objects 
of  knowledge  may  be  summarized  as  follows : — 


1 For  discussion  of  the  opposition  to  this  doctrine,  cf.  Chapter  6,  pp.  1 79  seq. 

2 “Principles  of  Human  Knowledge,”  § 30. 

3 Ibid.,  89.  Cf.  ibid.,  27,  and  “Dialogues  between  Hylas  and  Philonous,” 
III.,  Open  Court  edition,  p.  93. 

4 Berkeley  does  not  explicitly  recognize  this  distinction,  which,  however, 
he  everywhere  makes  between  the  wide  and  the  narrow  sense  of  the  term 
‘ idea.’  The  distinction,  between  ideas  (in  the  strict  sense)  and  notions,  first 
appears  in  the  second  edition  of  the  “Principles.”  For  a suggestion  of  it  in 
the  first  edition,  cf.  “Principles,”  140.  In  the  first  edition,  Berkeley  included 


The  System  of  Berkeley 


115 


Objects  of  Knowledge  (Ideas,  in  the  wide  sense) 


Ideas  (in  the  strict  sense) 


Notions 


Passively  Controlled 

received  by  me 

(Percepts)  (Images) 


Of  spirits 
and  their 
operations 


Of  rela- 
tions 


It  would  not  be  hard  to  criticise  this  summary  of  the  objects 
of  knowledge,  for  example,  on  the  ground  that  notions  of  the 
first  class  are  not  coordinate  with  the  three  other  groups  of 
‘objects  of  knowledge.’  Such  criticisms  do  not,  however, 
affect  fundamental  philosophical  problems  and  need  not  be 
pressed.  It  is  most  important,  on  the  other  hand,  to  grasp 
clearly  two  of  the  characters  which  Berkeley  attributes  to 
ideas  and  to  notions.  He  teaches,  in  the  first  place,  that  ideas 
and  notions  are,  in  a way,  the  copies  of  something  else.  Ideas, 
he  holds,  are  copies  of  other  ideas ; and  notions  are,  in  some 
sense,  ‘like’  the  spirit  which  is  known  through  them.  This 
doctrine,  as  will  later  appear,  has  an  important  bearing  on 
Berkeley’s  system.1  In  the  second  place,  Berkeley  lays 
stress  on  the  inactivity  of  ideas.  “All  our  ideas,  sensations, 
notions,  . . .”  he  says,  “by  whatsoever  names  they  may 
be  distinguished,  are  visibly  inactive  — there  is  nothing  of 
Power  or  Agency  included  in  them.  To  be  satisfied  of  the 
truth  of  this,  there  is  nothing  requisite  but  a bare  observa- 
tion of  our  ideas.  . -.  . Whoever  shall  attend  to  his  ideas, 
whether  of  sense  or  reflection,  will  not  perceive  in  them  any 
power  or  activity.  . . . The  very  being  of  an  idea  implies 
passiveness  and  inertness  in  it,  insomuch  that  it  is  impossible 

under  the  head  of  ideas  both  “ideas  perceived  by  attending  to  the  passions 
and  operations  of  the  mind,”  and  “ideas  formed  by  help  of  memory  and 
imagination,  either  compounding,  dividing,  or  barely  representing  those 
originally  perceived  . . . (“Principles,”  § 1).”  Many  of  the  statements 
of  the  first  edition,  like  that  just  quoted,  are  left  by  Berkeley,  side  by  side  with 
the  altered  terminology  of  the  second  edition.  In  the  remainder  of  this 
chapter  the  word  ‘idea’  will  be  used  in  the  narrower  sense  of  ‘percept  or 
image,’  unless  specific  mention  of  the  wider  use  is  made. 

1 “Principles,”  8,  27,  89.  See  below,  pp.  145  seq.  Notions  in  the  sense 
of  ‘ideas  of  relation’  seem  not  to  be  treated  as  resemblances. 


n6  Pluralistic  Spiritualism 

for  an  idea  to  do  anything  . . . : neither  can  it  be  the  resem- 
blance or  pattern  of  any  active  being.”  1 It  will  be  easier  to 
comprehend  what  Berkeley  means  by  the  passivity  of  ideas, 
after  considering  what  he  says  concerning  the  correlative 
activity  of  spirits.  But  even  at  this  point  of  the  discussion, 
most  readers  will  be  inclined  to  agree  with  Berkeley  that  intro  - 
spective attention  to  the  train  of  ideas  reveals  no  ‘activity’ 
of  any  one  idea  in  its  relation  to  another.  This  is  the  view 
already  suggested  by  Bacon  and  later  developed  by  Hume.2 
It  should  also  be  noted  that  in  the  section  just  quoted,  the 
first  in  which  the  subject  is  considered,  inactivity  is  attributed 
to  ‘ideas’  in  the  wide  sense  of  the  term,  including  even 
‘notions.’  Later,  when  Berkeley  realizes  the  impossibility 
that  a ‘ passive  idea  ’ should  resemble  an  active  spirit,  we  find 
him  limiting  the  passivity  to  ideas  in  the  narrow  sense. 

From  this  study  of  Berkeley’s  doctrine  of  the  nature  of 
ideas,  it  is  necessary  to  return  to  a discussion  of  the  characters 
which  he  attributes  to  ‘myself,’  that  is,  soul  or  spirit.  For  to 
these  three  words  he  gives,  as  he  explicitly  and  repeatedly 
says,  precisely  the  same  meaning.  “What  I am  myself  — 
that  which  I denote  by  the  term  I — is  the  same  with  what 
is  meant  by  soul  or  spiritual  substance.”  3 The  most  signifi- 
cant negative  characteristic  of  spirit  has  already  been  empha- 
sized ; the  fact  that  it  has  a reality  fundamental,  and  thus  in  a 
way  superior,  to  that  of  ideas.  This  follows  from  the  charac- 
teristic doctrine  of  Berkeley,  the  teaching  that  the  whole 
reality  of  ideas  “consists  only  in  being  perceived,”4  “whereas,” 
he  goes  on,  “a  soul  or  spirit  is  an  active  being  whose  exist- 
ence consists,  not  in  being  perceived,  but  in  perceiving  ideas 
and  thinking.”  Positively,  therefore,  this  unlikeness  of  spirit 
to  idea  consists  in  the  activity  of  spirit.  This  is  the  aspect 
of  spirit  on  which  Berkeley  lays  most  stress.5  Spirit  is,  in- 
deed, never  described,  except  as  an ‘active ’being  or  substance, 

1 “Principles,”  25:  cf.  27,  139.  2 Cf.  Chapter  6,  pp.  163  seq. 

3 “Principles,”  139;  cf.  2 and  27.  Cf.  notes  on  pp.  70,  406. 

4 Ibid.,  139;  cf.  2,  8,  25,  137.  5 Cf.  Leibniz’s  teaching,  p.  81. 


The  System  of  Berkeley 


ii  7 


an‘agent,’  a ‘power’or — moresimply — as  “that  which  acts,” 
“ which  operates.”  In  the  ordinary  use  of  the  word,  therefore, 
spirit  is  called  ‘active’  just  because  it  is  the  knower  of  ideas, 
whereas  ideas  are  called  passive,  since  their  reality  consists 
in  their  being  known.  In  a more  restricted  sense  of  the  word, 
the  ‘activity’  of  spirit  is  referred  to  its  volitional  or  creative 
function.  “It  is  no  more  than  willing,  and  straightway  this 
or  that  idea  arises  in  my  fancy ; and  by  the  same  power  it  is 
obliterated  and  makes  way  for  another.  This  making  and 
unmaking  of  ideas  doth  very  properly  denominate  the  mind 
active.”  1 The  mind,  or  I,  is  characterized,  Berkeley  teaches, 
not  merely  by  activity,  but  by  a certain  sort  of  unity,  contrasted 
with  the  ‘variety’  or  ‘succession’  of  ideas,  and  with  a per- 
manence opposed  to  the  fleeting  and  transitory  nature  of 
the  ideas.  “I  know,”  he  says,2  in  a passage  already  quoted, 
“that  I,  one  and  the  same  self,  perceive  both  colors  and 
sounds.”  The  expression  ‘substance,’  or  ‘support,  of  ideas,’ 
which  he  constantly  uses  with  reference  to  spirit,  lays  stress 
on  this  permanence  of  the  self ; the  epithets  ‘simple’  and  ‘in- 
divisible’ imply  the  unity.3  Berkeley  further  believes  that 
the  soul  is  immortal,  but  founds  the  doctrine  rather  on  the 
traditional  opposition  between  ‘immortal’  spirit  and  ‘dead’ 
matter  than  on  any  adequate  discussion.4 

II.  Berkeley’s  Negative  Doctrine:  The  Disproof  of 
the  Existence  of  Matter  (Non-ideal  Reality) 

Up  to  this  point,  nothing  distinguishes  Berkeley  in  a 
marked  way  from  his  predecessor,  Locke,  the  dualist.  For 
Locke  and,  in  fact,  Descartes  taught  that  I may  be  immedi- 
ately certain  of  the  existence  of  myself,  an  active,  unified 

1 “Principles,”  28. 

2 “Dialogues  between  Hylas  and  Philonous,”  III.,  Open  Court  edition, 
P-  95- 

3 “Principles,”  27,  89.  Cf.  “Dialogues,”  Open  Court  edition,  p.  92. 

4 “ Principles,”  141  et  al. 


1 1 8 Pluralistic  Spiritualism 

spirit,  and  of  the  existence  of  my  ideas.  But  closely  inter- 
woven with  his  positive  doctrine,  that  I myself  and  my  ideas 
exist,  is  Berkeley’s  negative  teaching,  the  denial  of  non-ideal 
or  non-spiritual  reality.  According  to  his  view  and  that  of 
Leibniz,  the  universe  is,  through  and  through,  immaterial, 
a universe  of  consciousness,  of  spirit  and  idea.  Alleged 
non-ideal  reality  is  reducible,  therefore,  either  to  spirit  or 
to  idea. 

Before  discussing  Berkeley’s  argument  it  is  necessary  to 
define  precisely  the  nature  of  what  he  calls  ‘matter.’ 
According  to  Berkeley  so-called  matter  has  two  essential  char- 
acters, both  negative:  it  is  in  the  first  place  conceived  as  inde- 
pendent of  consciousness,  that  is,  of  mind.  By  this  is  meant 
that  ‘matter’  would  exist  unchanged  though  every  conscious 
being  and  every  conscious  process  were  annihilated.1  In  the 
second  place,  matter  is  other- than-consciousness,  radically  and 
essentially  different-from-consciousness.  It  is  thus  obvious 
that  Berkeley  uses  the  term  in  a sense  wider  than  that  of  the 
philosophy  of  our  own  day,  including  under  it  not  merely 
physical  phenomena  of  the  world  which  we  directly  perceive 
but  also  whatever  non-ideal  reality  may  be  inferred  to  exist. 
He  argues  against  both  these  conceptions:  the  everyday 
view  of  matter  as  sum  of  the  physical  objects  which  we 
see,  hear,  and  touch ; and  the  doctrine  of  matter  as  unknown 
cause  or  background  of  our  percepts.  We  must  follow  both 
arguments  in  some  detail. 

a.  Berkeley's  teaching  that  immediately  perceived  1 material' 
things  exist  only  as  ideas 

Berkeley’s  doctrine,  that  no  material  reality  exists,  strikes 
us  at  first  thought  as  utterly  absurd,  for  it  seems  certain  that 
we  actually  see,  hear,  taste,  or  touch  material  things  — trees, 
thunder,  apples,  or  chairs,  for  example.  But  Berkeley  never 
for  an  instant  denies  the  existence  of  these  directly  perceived 

1 Cf.  Hume,  loc.  cit.  infra,  p.  172;  and  Royce,  “The  World  and  the 
Individual,”  First  Series,  pp.  97  seq. 


The  System  of  Berkeley  1 1 9 

external  objects  or  things.  He  believes  as  firmly  as  Locke 
or  Descartes  or  you  or  I that  the  trees  and  chairs  which  we 
perceive  really  exist,  but  he  denies  that  they  exist  outside 
the  mind ; in  a word,  he  denies  that  immediately  perceived 
things  are  realities  which  would  exist  though  no  one  were 
conscious  of  them.  Positively,  therefore,  Berkeley  teaches 
that  things  are  ideas.  “The  table  I write  on,”  Berkeley 
says,  “exists,  that  is,  I see  and  feel  it ; and  if  I were  out  of  my 
study  I should  say  it  existed,  meaning  thereby  that  if  I was 
in  my  study  I might  perceive  it  or  that  some  other  spirit 
actually  does  perceive  it.  There  was  an  odor,  that  is,  it 
was  smelled  ; there  was  a sound,  that  is,  it  was  heard  ; a 
color  or  figure,  and  it  was  perceived  by  sight  or  touch.”  1 

Berkeley  has,  therefore,  to  prove  that  the  immediately 
perceived  thing  is  idea : to  do  this,  it  is  necessary  to  analyze 
it  into  its  parts.  A given  ‘ thing  ’ is,  let  us  say,  perceived 
to  be  colored,  fragrant,  soft,  and  round  : in  other  words,  it  is 
known  as  the  sum  of  its  qualities.  If,  now,  it  can  be  shown 
that  each  of  the  perceived  qualities  has  no  existence  indepen- 
dent of  perception,  it  will  follow,  Berkeley  holds,  that  the  per- 
ceived thing  is  itself  a modification  of  consciousness,  in  a 
word,  that  it  is  idea,  not  matter.  The  question  at  issue  is, 
therefore,  simply  this : do  we  directly  perceive  colors,  odors, 
and  forms  as  belonging  to  realities  which  would  exist  though 
there  were  no  perceiver?  Berkeley  urges  that,  on  the  con- 
trary, color,  odor,  and  form  as  we  directly  know  them  vary 
with  the  condition  of  the  perceiver. 

In  the  “Three  Dialogues  between  Hylas  and  Philonous,” 
he  argues  this,  in  detail,  for  the  different  sense-qualities. 
“Suppose,”  he  begins,  “one  of  your  hands  hot  and  the  other 
cold,  and  that  they  are  both  at  once  put  into  the  same  vessel 
of  water  in  an  intermediate  state ; will  not  the  water  seem  cold 
to  one  hand  and  warm  to  the  other?”2  But  if,  as  the  every - 

1 “Principles,”  3. 

2 “Dialogues,”  I.,  Open  Court  edition,  p.  18.  Philonous,  the  setter- 
forth  of  Berkeley’s  views,  is  the  speaker. 


1 20  Pluralistic  Spiritualism 

day  theory  assumes,  hot  and  cold  were  qualities  belonging  to 
an  object  existing  independently  of  consciousness,  then  it 
would  be  necessary  to  suppose  that  a thing  has  at  one  and 
the  same  time  two  opposite  qualities,  heat  and  cold.  This, 
Berkeley  says,  is  ‘to  believe  an  absurdity.’  On  the  other 
hand,  though  an  object  may  not  be  at  the  same  time  hot  and 
cold,  a perceiving  self  may,  he  holds,  at  one  and  the  same  time 
have  the  ideas  of  hot  and  cold.  Not  merely  perceived  heat 
or  cold,  but  taste,  varies  with  the  perceiver.  “That  which 
at  other  times  seems  sweet  shall  to  a distempered  palate 
appear  bitter.  And  nothing  can  be  plainer  than  that  divers 
persons  perceive  different  tastes  in  the  same  food,  since  that 
which  one  man  delights  in,  another  abhors.”  And  how  could 
this  be,  Berkeley  asks,1  “if  the  taste  was  really  something 
inherent  in  the  food?”  Berkeley’s  meaning  is  clear.  If  in 
tasting  food  we  directly  perceived  the  quality  of  an  object 
existing  independently  of  us,  then  the  same  food  must  taste 
the  same  to  different  people  eating  it.  But  it  is  admitted 
that  a given  food  ‘tastes’  differently  to  different  people;  it 
follows  that  these  different  tastes  are  different  ideas  of  dis- 
tinct people.  Similar  reasoning  is  applied  by  Berkeley  to 
the  other  sense-qualities.  Colored  objects  change  their 
hue  as  we  approach  them;  “the  beautiful  red  and  purple  we 
see  on  yonder  clouds”  are  “only  apparent  colors.”  They 
are  not  really  in  the  clouds,  for  these  “have  in  themselves 
[no]  other  form  than  that  of  a dark  mist  or  vapor.”  2 And 
in  the  same  way  it  may  be  shown  that  perceived  odors 
and  sounds  vary  with  the  perceiver.  But  all  this  would  be 
impossible  if,  in  tasting  and  seeing,  hearing  and  smelling, 
we  directly  perceived  the  qualities  of  ‘material  things,’  that 
is,  of  things  existing  independently  of  our  consciousness  of 
them. 

So  far,  Berkeley  has  considered  only  what  Locke  called  the 

1 “Dialogues  between  Hylas  and  Philonous,”  I.,  Open  Court  edition, 

p.  21. 

2 Ibid.,  p.  26. 


The  System  of  Berkeley 


12  I 


secondary  qualities.  He  has  merely  amplified  and  empha- 
sized Descartes’s  and  Locke’s  arguments  to  reach  this  con- 
clusion, that  what  we  know  as  heat,  cold,  odor,  taste,  sound, 
and  color,  are  ideas  in  the  mind,  not  qualities  of  things  inde- 
pendent of  consciousness.  And  herein,  we  must  remind 
ourselves,  Locke  and  Berkeley  agree  exactly  with  modern 
science.  The  physicists  teach  us  that  there  is  nothing  in 
the  physical  world  exactly  corresponding  to  the  different 
colors,  sounds,  degrees  of  heat  and  cold,  flavors,  and  odors  of 
the  nature  world  as  we  know  it.  Colors  and  the  rest,  they 
teach,  are  mere  ideas,  and  the  ‘real  causes’  of  these  ideas  are 
forms  of  vibration.  Thus  the  external  world  of  the  physicist 
is  essentially  the  corporeal  universe  of  Descartes  and  Locke, 
a silent,  colorless  world  of  form  and  motion.  But  Berkeley 
goes  on  to  rob  the  material  world,  which  we  suppose  ourselves 
to  perceive  directly,  of  even  the  so-called  primary  qualities 
of  form  and  motion  and  solidity.  For,  he  argues,  the 
extension,  motion,  and  solidity,  which  we  directly  know, 
vary  with  the  perceiver  as  truly  as  heat  and  taste  and  color 
do.  It  is  easy  to  multiply  illustrations  of  his  meaning: 
The  figures  which  are  like  moving  pigmies  as  I look  down 
at  them  from  a tower,  turn  out  to  be  full-sized  men ; 
the  nut  which  resists  the  pressure  of  a child’s  hand  is  crushed 
between  a blacksmith’s  fingers ; the  trees  which  glide  by  me 
as  I am  swiftly  rowed  along  the  river’s  bank  become  immov- 
able when  I check  the  motion  of  the  boat.  Now  if,  in  per- 
ceiving form,  hardness,  and  motion,  I were  directly  conscious 
of  the  qualities  in  an  object  existing  independently  of  mind,  it 
would  follow  that  a given  figure  is  both  six  inches  and  six  feet 
high,  that  a nut  shell  is  both  hard  and  soft,  that  a given  tree 
is  in  motion  and  at  rest.  The  absurdity  of  such  results 
drives  Berkeley  to  the  conclusion  that  the  varying  figures, 
hardnesses,  and  motions,  which  we  directly  perceive,  are 
changing  ideas  in  us.  From  the  fact  that  “as  we  approach 
to  or  recede  from  an  object,  the  visible  extension  varies, 
being  at  one  distance  ten  or  a hundred  times  greater  than 


122 


Pluralistic  Spiritualism 


at  another,”  it  follows,  he  argues,  that  extension  “ is  not 
really  inherent  in  the  object.” 1 

The  doctrine  of  Descartes  and  Locke  concerning  the  physi- 
cal world  — which  is,  as  has  been  shown,  the  doctrine  of 
modem  science  — is,  thus,  in  Berkeley’s  view,  utterly  incon- 
sistent. According  to  this  familiar  way  of  thinking,  colors, 
sounds,  tastes,  and  odors  — the  secondary  qualities  — are 
ideas  in  our  minds,  caused  by  ‘real’  material  qualities  of  form 
and  motion.  But  the  argument  which  convinces  Locke 
that  color,  taste,  and  the  rest  are  no  real  qualities,  inherent  in 
material  things,  is  the  fact  that  they  vary  with  the  perceiver; 
and  form,  hardness,  and  weight  are  variable  in  precisely  the 
same  way:  they  are,  therefore,  as  truly  as  color  and  taste, 
ideas  in  the  mind.  There  is,  in  a word,  no  reason  for  dis- 
tinguishing this  one  group  of  thing-qualities — form,  motion, 
and  solidity  — from  the  others. 

Against  this  argument,  so  long  drawn  out  by  Berkeley, 
it  may  be  urged  that  though  unquestionably  it  proves  that  the 
primary  qualities  are  no  more  ‘real’  than  the  secondary 
qualities,  it  nevertheless  does  not  disprove  that  all  qualities, 
primary  as  well  as  secondary,  belong  to  objects  independent 
of  mind.  There  is  no  need  of  dwelling  on  this  point,  for 
Berkeley  himself  admits  the  force  of  the  criticism,  definitely 
stating  that  “ this  method  of  arguing  does  not  so  much  prove 
that  there  is  no  extension  or  color  in  an  outward  object  as 
that  we  do  not  know  by  sense  which  is  the  true  extension 
or  color  of  the  object.”  2 But  Berkeley  has  another  and 
a more  fundamental  reason  for  the  belief  that  the  things 
and  qualities,  which  we  directly  see,  touch,  and  feel,  do 
not  exist  independently  of  mind.  It  is  this : When  I ask 
myself  what  I am  directly  and  immediately  sure  of,  in  per- 
ceiving, it  is  evident  that  I am  immediately  certain  only  of 
the  fact  of  my  being  conscious  in  this  or  that  way.  The  very 
simplicity  of  this  consideration  makes  it  hard  to  grasp.  Let 


1 “Dialogues,”  I.,  Open  Court  ed.,  p.  33;  cf.  p.  34,  end. 

2 “ Principles,”  15. 


The  System  of  Berkeley 


123 


us  make  it  concrete.  I say,  for  example,  that  I am  directly 
certain  of  the  existence  of  a red  rose.  Exactly  what  is  it  of 
which  I am  evidently  sure  ? I am  sure  that  I have  sensational 
experiences  of  redness,  greenness,  fragrance,  thorniness, 
coolness.  There  is  absolutely  nothing  in  the  ‘ thing  ’ of  which 
I am  directly  certain,  save  of  this  complex  fact  of  my  experi- 
ence. I am  perhaps  certain  of  more  than  this,  but  my  other 
certainties,  if  they  exist,  are  inferences  from  this  one  direct 
certainty.  The  material  thing  then,  as  directly  known,  is 
proved  by  appeal  to  the  consciousness  of  every  observer  to 
be  a fact  within  consciousness,  not  independent  of  it.  The 
‘thing’  is,  therefore,  an  ‘idea.’  In  Berkeley’s  own  words:  — 
“It  is  an  opinion  strangely  prevailing  amongst  men,  that 
houses,  mountains,  rivers,  and  in  a word  all  sensible  objects, 
have  an  existence,  natural  or  real,  distinct  from  their  beingper- 
ceived  by  the  understanding.  But  with  how  great  an  assur- 
ance and  acquiescence  soever  this  principle  may  be  entertained 
. . .,  yet  whoever  shall  find  in  his  heart  to  call  it  in  question, 
may  . . . perceive  it  to  involve  a manifest  contradiction. 
For  what  are  the  forementioned  objects  but  the  things  we  per- 
ceive by  sense?  and  what  do  we  perceive  besides  our  own  ideas 
or  sensations  ? and  is  it  not  plainly  repugnant  that  any  one  of 
these  or  any  combination  of  them  should  exist  unperceived  ? ” 1 

It  should  be  noticed  that  Berkeley  has  so  far  denied  only  the 
existence  of  those  supposedly  independent  things  which  we 
suppose  ourselves  to  perceive  directly,  to  see,  hear,  and  touch. 
Whether  or  not  there  exist,  inferred  by  us  but  unperceived, 
things  which  would  exist  though  no  one  perceived  them  and 
which  cause  our  percepts  — this  problem  Berkeley  has  not 
yet  considered.  He  has  shown,  however,  that  we  have  no 
right  to  the  argument : things  exist  independent  of  mind  for  I 
see,  touch,  and  hear  them  ; that,  on  the  contrary,  such  things  as 
I am  immediately  and  sensationally  conscious  of  are  ideas.2 

1 “Principles,”  4;  cf.  22.  Cf.,  also,  “Dialogues,”  I.,  Open  Court  edition, 
T>.  481. 

2 Cf.  “Dialogues,”  I.,  Open  Court  edition,  p.  12,  “Sensible  things  are 
ihose  only  which  are  immediately  perceived  by  sense.” 


124 


Pluralistic  Spiritualism 


Two  objections  urged  against  this  doctrine  of  Berkeley’s 
should  be  considered  before  passing  on  to  discuss  the  second 
of  the  conceptions  of  matter  against  which  he  argues.  It 
is  urged,  in  the  first  place,  that  Berkeley  makes  concrete, 
external  things  unreal.  The  real  and  solid  world,  of  moun- 
tains, rocks,  and  seas,  reduces,  we  are  told,  on  Berkeley’s 
principles,  to  a mere  illusion,  to  a series  of  evanescent  and 
unreal  phenomena.  Thus,  Berkeley’s  doctrine  that  the  thing 
is  idea  destroys  the  admitted  distinction  between  reality  and 
unreality.  There  is  surely  a difference  between  a real  dollar 
and  an  imagined  dollar,1  a real  castle  and  the  palace  of  our 
dreams.  But  if,  as  Berkeley  teaches,  real  dollar  and  actual 
palace  are  themselves  ideas,  then  no  room  is  left  for  the 
experienced  distinction.2 

Now,  Berkeley  clearly  realizes  the  gravity  of  this  charge,  of 
annihilating  the  reality  of  the  physical  world  and  thereby  de- 
stroying the  distinction  between  real  and  unreal ; but  he  very 
vigorously  denies  the  accusation.  He  begins  by  stating  the 
difficulty  in  terms  as  forcible  as  those  of  his  opponents.  “It 
will  be  objected,”  he  says,  “that  by  the  foregoing  principles, 
all  that  is  real  and  substantial  in  nature  is  banished  out  of  the 
world  : and  instead  thereof  a chimerical  scheme  of  ideas  takes 
place.  All  things  that  exist,  exist  only  in  the  mind,  . . . 
what,  therefore,  becomes  of  the  sun,  moon,  and  stars?  What 
must  we  think  of  houses,  rivers,  mountains,  and  stones ; nay, 
even  of  our  own  bodies  ? Are  all  these  but  so  many  chimeras 
and  illusions  of  the  fancy?  To  all  which,  and  whatever  else 
of  the  same  sort  may  be  objected,  I answer,  . . . Whatever 
we  see,  feel,  hear,  or  any  wise  conceive  or  understand, 
remains  as  secure  as  ever  and  is  as  real  as  ever.  . . . That 
the  things  which  I see  with  mine  eyes  and  touch  with 

1 Cf.  Kiilpe’s  “Outline  of  Psychology,”  § 28,  2),  and  the  writer’s  “An 
Introduction  to  Psychology,”  pp.  186  seq.,  for  discussion  of  the  distinction 
between  perception  and  imagination. 

2 Cf.  Locke’s  argument,  “Essay  Concerning  Human  Understanding,” 
Bk.  IV.,  Chapter  n ; see  also  Chapter  2,  supra,  p.  36 


The  System  of  Berkeley  125 

mine  hands  do  exist,  really  exist,  I make  not  the  least 
question.”  1 

Berkeley  then  goes  on  to  show  wherein  consists  the  reality  of 
these  immediately  seen  and  felt  things,  which  — though  real 
- — are  ideas.  This  reality  which  distinguishes  ‘real  things’ 
— namely,  ‘ideas  imprinted  on  the  senses’  — from  the  ‘mere 
ideas’  of  imagination,  is,  in  truth,  twofold.  The  “ideas 
imprinted  on  the  senses  ...”  have  not  (1)  “a  . . . de- 
pendence on  my  will,”  2 and  they  are  “allowed  to  have  more 
reality,  that  is,  to  be  more  strong,  orderly,  and  coherent  than 
the  creatures  of  the  mind.”  3 In  other  words,  the  reality  of 
perceived  things  consists,  not  in  the  fact  that  they  are  inde- 
pendent of  any  mind,  but  in  the  fact  that  they  are  ideas 
characterized  by  a superior  vividness  and  regularity,  and  are 
independent  of  my  own  will. 

In  still  another  way  (2)  Berkeley  teaches  that  real  things  — 
namely,  ideas  of  sense  — are  distinguished  from  the  ideas  of 
imagination.  They  are  not  exclusively  or  primarily  the  ideas 
of  a single,  finite  self,  but  are  ideas  of  the  infinite  spirit,  God, 
which  may  be  shared  by  him  with  finite  selves.  In  Berkeley’s 
own  words : “ There  are  only  things  perceiving  and  things  per- 
ceived ; . . . every  unthinking  being  is  necessarily,  and  from 
the  very  nature  of  its  existence,  perceived  by  some  mind ; if  not 
by  a finite  created  mind,  yet  certainly  by  the  infinite  mind  of 
God,  in  whom  ‘we  live  and  move  and  have  our  being.’”4 
This  aspect  of  the  reality  of  things  immediately  perceived  de- 
pends, however,  for  its  validity  on  the  certainty  of  God’s  ex- 
istence ; and  Berkeley  has  not  yet  proved  the  existence  of  God. 
But  he  has  shown  that,  if  God  exists,  real  things  may  plau- 
sibly be  distinguished  from  images,  as  existing  primarily  in 
God’s  mind.  And,  in  any  case,  the  involuntariness,  the  regu- 
larity, and  the  order  of  ideas  of  sense  give  to  them  a pecu- 
liar reality  as  compared  with  ideas  of  imagination.  “ Be  they 
never  so  vivid  and  distinct,”  however,  Berkeley  insists,  “they 

1 “ Principles,  ” 34,  35.  2 Ibid.,  29.  3 Ibid.,  33. 

4 “ Dialogues,”  III.,  Open  Court  edition,  p.  98, 


126 


P luralistic  Spiritualism 


are  nevertheless  ideas,  that  is,  they  exist  in  the  mind  or  are 
perceived  by  it,  as  truly  as  ideas  of  its  own  framing.” 

b.  Berkeley's  teaching  that  injerred  material  reality  does 

not  exist 

Berkeley  has,  so  far,  shown  that  we  are  wrong  in  the  ordi- 
nary supposition  that  we  immediately  see  and  taste  and  smell 
things  which  exist  independently  of  any  mind.  On  the  con- 
trary, we  must  admit  that  the  immediate  objects  of  our  per- 
ception are  ideas,  distinguished  by  superior  coherence  and 
vividness  from  the  ideas  of  imagination.  But  this  admission 
does  not  affect  the  possibility  that  non-ideal  things  do  exist  in- 
dependently of  consciousness,  although  we  do  not  perceive 
them.  For  it  is  possible  that  we  ought  to  infer  the  existence 
of  things,  or  matter,  independent  of  our  consciousness.  This 
possibility  Berkeley,  however,  denies.  He  asserts  not  only 
that  we  do  not  perceive  things,  independent  of  consciousness, 
but  also  that  we  have  no  right  to  infer  the  existence  of  any 
independent  and  non-ideal  (or,  in  his  words,  material)  reality. 
The  arguments  for  this  conclusion  must  now  be  considered. 
Berkeley  discusses  this  hypothesis  of  inferred  matter  1 under 
many  names  and  forms,  as  substratum,  cause,  instrument, 
occasion,  and  entity.  Several  of  these  forms  of  the  doctrine 
have  lost  the  significance  which  they  had  in  the  seventeenth 
century ; and  all  may  be  grouped  under  two  main  heads,  of 
which  the  second  is  again  subdivided  : first,  the  conception  of 
material  (non-ideal)  reality  as  a world  of  ‘ real  ’ things  known 
to  be  like  the  percepts  of  them ; second,  the  opposite  concep- 
tion of  material  reality  as  not  known  to  be  like  our  perceptions. 

The  first  of  these  doctrines  represents  the  least  possible  con- 
cession to  idealism  and  is  a very  natural  advance  upon  the 
theory  that  material  things  are  immediately  known.  Granted 
that  things  as  immediately  perceived  are  ideas,  why,  it  is 
asked,  may  there  not  exist  a world  of  things,  existing  inde- 


1 This  is  not  Berkeley’s  expression. 


The  System  of  Berkeley 


127 


pendently  of  mind,  but  yet  resembling  precisely  these  per- 
ceptions of  ours?  If  this  be  true,  there  exists  a real  world  of 
unperceived  yet  colored,  fragrant,  extended  things,  and  our 
perceptions  are  copies  of  these  unperceived  models  of  them, 
these  ‘real  things.’  Against  such  a doctrine,  Berkeley  urges 
two  objections.* 1  In  the  first  place,  he  points  out,  this  doctrine 
that  there  exist  real  things  like  our  percepts  involves  us  in  a 
new  difficulty.  Our  ideas  of  the  alleged  external  things  are 
acknowledged  to  vary  constantly,  and  it  follows  that  the  ‘ real 
thing,’  if  like  the  ideas  of  it,  must  exactly  resemble  several 
different  ideas.  But  this  is  absurd  : the  real  temperature,  for 
example,  cannot  possibly  be  both  warm  and  cold  ; yet  accord- 
ing to  one  person’s  idea  the  room  is  warm,  whereas  according 
to  another  person’s  view  it  is  cold.  In  the  words  of  Philo- 
nous,  the  idealist,  to  his  opponent,  Hylas:  “How  is  it  pos- 
sible that  things  perpetually  fleeting  and  variable  as  our 
ideas  should  be  copies  or  images  of  anything  fixed  and  con- 
stant?”2 Even  more  fundamental  is  the  objection  that 
reality  independent  of  the  mind  cannot  possibly  resemble  in 
any  significant  sense  what  is  in  its  inmost  nature  mental,  ideal, 
of  the  nature  of  consciousness.  By ‘material,’  it  will  be  re- 
membered, is  meant,  the  ‘other- than -mental.’  No  material 
thing,  therefore,  can  be  like  an  idea.3  The  opponent  of 
Berkeley  has  to  face  the  question,  “How  can  that  which  is 
sensible  be  like  that  which  is  insensible?  Can  a real 

thing  in  itself  invisible  be  like  a color;  or  a real  thing  which 
is  not  audible  be  like  a sound  ? In  a word,  can  anything 
be  like  a sensation  or  idea  but  another  sensation  or 
idea?”  4 

To  the  writer,  as  to  Berkeley,  it  seems  clear  that  a material 
world  which  is  like  our  ideas  of  it  cannot  be  proved  to  exist. 
But  it  is  still  possible,  Berkeley’s  opponent  will  urge,  that 

1 “Dialogues,”  I.,  last  few  pages;  Open  Court  edition,  pp.  52  seq. 

2 Ibid.,  p.  562. 

8 Cf.  supra,  Chapter  3,  p.  57. 

4 “ Dialogues,”  I.,  Open  Court  edition,  pp.  56-57. 


128 


Pluralistic  Spiritualism 


material  reality  which  is  not  known  to  be  like  our  percepts 
none  the  less  exists.  There  are  two  important  forms  of  this 
conception  of  matter  as  inferred  reality,  independent  of  mind 
and  not  known  to  be  like  it : 1 matter  is  regarded  either 
(i)  as  the  cause  of  our  perceptions,  or  (2)  as  entirely 
unknown.  These  conceptions  must  be  carefully  analyzed 
and  estimated. 

It  may  be  very  plausibly  argued,  in  the  first  place,  that  ma- 
terial reality,  reality  independent  of  consciousness,  must  exist 
to  cause  my  perceptions.  ‘Ideas  of  sensation’  — so-called 
things  — are  admitted  to  differ  from  the  mere  ideas  of  the 
imagination,  precisely  in  that  they  are  not  creations  of  my 
mind,  but  ‘impressed  from  without.’  Thus,  it  is  urged,  there 
must  exist  a reality  independent  of  consciousness,  to  cause 
regular  and  vivid  and  inevitable  ideas  of  perception.  In  the 
words  of  Hylas : 2 “I  find  myself  affected  with  various  ideas, 
whereof  I know  I am  not  the  cause ; neither  are  they  the  cause 
of  themselves,  or  of  one  another  ...  as  being  altogether 
inactive,  fleeting,  dependent  beings.  They  have,  therefore, 
some  cause  distinct  from  me  and  them,  of  which  I pretend 
to  know  no  more  than  that  it  is  the  cause  of  my  ideas.  And 
this  thing,  whatever  it  be,  I call  matter.” 

Against  this  doctrine  Berkeley  argues  in  the  following 
manner:  He  admits  the  necessity  of  assigning  some  cause  of 
our  ideas  of  sense.  But  he  points  out  that  matter  is  not  the 
only  possible  cause  of  them.  It  is  at  least  possible  (and  he 
will  later  argue  that  it  is  necessary)  to  explain  these  ideas  of 
sense  as  due  to  the  influence,  on  the  finite  mind,  of  a mind 
greater  and  more  powerful  than  itself.  In  the  second  place, 
Berkeley  argues,  matter  cannot,  in  the  very  nature  of  it,  be  a 
cause  of  anything  — least  of  all,  of  ideas  of  consciousness. 

1 The  conception  of  ‘matter’  as  substratum  is,  possibly,  a third  conception 
of  this  sort.  As  discussed  by  Berkeley,  however,  the  substratum  really  turns 
out  to  be  either  the  ‘extended’  or  the  ‘unknown’;  whereas,  in  its  defensible 
meaning  of  ‘relation  of  the  qualities’  the  substratum  would  reduce  to  an 
‘idea  of  relation.’ 

2 “Dialogues,”  II.,  Open  Court  edition,  p.  70. 


The  System,  of  Berkeley 


1 29 


For  by  ‘matter’  is  always  meant,  Berkeley  says,1  a ‘pas- 
sive,’ ‘inert,’  ‘inactive,’  substance.  But  “how,”  Berkeley 
asks,  “can  that  which  is  inactive  be  a cause;  or  that 
which  is  unthinking  be  a cause  of  thought ?”  By  this 
question  Berkeley  indicates  two  reasons  for  denying  that 
matter,  as  mere  unknown  cause  of  ideas,  exists:  (1)  as  in- 
active it  could  not  be  a cause  at  all  ; and  (2)  even  if  it  were 
active,  and  thus  a cause,  as  unthinking  it  could  not  be  the 
cause  of  thought.2 

Both  arguments  demand  careful  scrutiny.  To  begin  with 
the  second:  it  will  be  admitted  that  matter  is  ‘unthinking,’ 
that  is,  non-conscious.  By  definition,  ‘matter’  is  precisely 
that  which  is  other-than-consciousness.  But  it  is  not  so 
evident  that  a non-conscious  being  could  not  be  cause  of  a 
phenomenon  of  consciousness.  We  know  far  too  little  of  the 
relation  between  cause  and  effect  to  assert  dogmatically  that 
the  two  must  be  of  the  same  nature.3  In  fact,  among  ob- 
served cases  of  causality  the  difference  between  cause  and 
effect  is  often  very  striking,  as  when  mechanical  causes  pro- 
duce thermal  effects,  or  electrical  causes  physiological  effects. 
Of  course  these  differences  are  not  so  great  as  distinctions 
between  supposed  ‘matter’  and  consciousness,  yet  Berkeley 
gives  no  adequate  reason  for  the  assertion  that  the  non-con- 
scious could  not  be  the  cause  of  consciousness. 

We  are  thrown  back,  therefore,  to  the  more  general  ar- 
gument that  matter,  since  inactive,  cannot  be  cause  of  any- 
thing. Given  the  inactivity  of  matter,  this  will  presumably 
be  granted,  since  causality  in  the  usual  sense  does  involve 
activity.4  But  the  student  of  Berkeley  will  object,  fairly 
enough,  that  Berkeley  has  no  right  to  assume,  without  argu- 

1 “Principles,”  9,  67,  69  et  at.  “Dialogues,”  II.,  Open  Court  edition, 
p.  71. 

2 This  is  a repetition  of  Locke’s  doctrine.  Cf.  “Essay  concerning 
Human  Understanding,”  Bk.  IV.,  Chapter  X.,  paragraphs  14  seq. 

3 Cf.  the  criticism  of  Descartes’s  conception  of  causality,  supra,  Chapter  2, 
pp.  48  seq. 

4 But  cf.  Hume’s  doctrine,  as  discussed,  pp.  163  seq. 

K 


130 


Pluralistic  Spiritualism 


ment,  that  matter  is  ‘inactive,’  ‘passive,’  or  ‘inert.’  Modern 
science  expressly  challenges  this  view  conceiving  of  external 
reality  as  energy  rather  than  as  matter.  Yet  a study  of 
contemporary  scientific  conceptions  will  reveal  the  fact  that 
‘energy’  is  treated  either  as  motion  (kinetic  energy)  or  as 
‘further  irreducible  cause  of  motion’  or  — still  more  indefi- 
nitely — as  ‘ that  whose  form  changes  while  its  quantity 
remains  unchanged.’ 1 Against  any  one  of  these  concep- 
tions Berkeley’s  arguments  might  be  directed.  For  energy 
conceived  as  motion  reduces  to  sensible  quality,  and  con- 
ceived as  ‘cause’  or  as  ‘permanent  quantity’  is  an  inferred 
reality  of  indefinite  content.  And  just  as  Berkeley  showed 
that  we  cannot  perceive  any  sensible  thing  outside  our  con- 
sciousness, so,  with  equal  force,  he  might  have  argued  that 
the  object  of  our  inference  is  ipso  facto  an  idea,  object-of- 
consciousness,  a mental  fact.  Thus  matter,  inferred  to 
exist  as  cause  of  ideas,  whether  regarded  as  active  or  as 
inactive,  would  still  be  object  of  our  inference  and,  therefore, 
in  Berkeley’s  language,  an  ‘idea.’2  The  result  of  our 
consideration  of  his  doctrine,  that  matter  as  cause  of  percepts 
does  not  exist,  is  then  to  discredit  his  express  arguments,  but 
to  accept  his  conclusion  as  a consequence  of  a truth  which 
he  has  established. 

But  granting  that  the  cause  of  our  percepts  cannot  be  ma- 
terial, or,  in  other  words,  independent  of  consciousness,  there 
is  a final  possibility  that  matter,  conceived  in  a perfectly  nega- 
tive way, exists.  It  has  been  shown  that  color,  fragrance,  tex- 
ture, even  form  and  motion,  are  within  the  world  of  conscious- 
ness, not  independent  of  it ; that  even  causality  is  mental,  not 
material.  Matter,  then,  if  it  exist,  has  no  shape  or  color,  is 
no  form  of  motion,  is  not  cause  of  anything.  And  yet,  the 
opponents  of  idealism  urge,  one  cannot  disprove  the  existence 

1 Cf.  W.  Ostwald,  “Natural  Philosophy,”  pp.  149  et  al.  The  theory  of 
Boscovitch,  that  matter  is  made  up  of  points  possessed  of  inertia  and  of  the 
powers  of  attraction  and  repulsion,  was  published  in  the  middle  of  Berkeley’s 
own  century. 

2 For  discussion  of  similar  views,  cf.  later  chapters  on  Hume,  Kant,  Hegel. 


The  System  of  Berkeley  131 

of  some  perfectly  unknown  reality,  which  is  none  the  less 
independent  of  consciousness.1 

The  proof  just  outlined,  that  an  inferred  reality  must  be 
mental,  would  hold  against  this  hypothesis  of  an  unknown 
reality  which  is  “neither  substance  nor  accident,  thinking 
nor  extended  being,  neither  cause,  instrument,  nor  occasion, 
but  something  entirely  unknown.”  2 Berkeley  does  not  urge 
this  argument,  but  offers,  in  place  of  it,  two  other  objections. 
He  urges,  in  the  first  place,  that  this  conception  of  matter  is 
not  consistently  maintained  by  those  who  uphold  it.  The 
philosophers  who  allege  the  existence  of  an  absolutely  un- 
known reality  are  constantly,  he  says,  assuming  to  know 
something,  however  little,  about  it.3  And  herein  it  must  be 
confessed  that  Berkeley  clearly  is  right.  Both  the  philoso- 
phers of  his  time  and  those  of  our  day,  who  urge  that  the 
ultimate  reality  must  be  unknowable,  none  the  less  claim  it  as, 
in  a certain  way,  known.  Herbert  Spencer,  to  take  a mod- 
em instance,  teaches  the  unknowableness  of  the  ultimate, 
but  at  the  same  time  defines  the  unknowable  as  an 
‘ultimate  cause’  and  as  “that  through  which  all  things  exist;” 
and  this  means  that  the  alleged  unknowable  may  at  least  be 
known  to  be  cause.4  If,  on  the  other  hand,  the  hypothesis  of 
matter  as  ‘unknown’  be  rightly  held,  if,  in  other  words,  it 
be  seriously  maintained  that  matter  is  that  which  has  abso- 
lutely no  qualities  or  predicates  whatever,  then,  Berkeley 
points  out,  the  hypothesis  turns  into  a mere  form  of  words 
to  which  no  reality  corresponds.  That  which  is  neither  con- 
scious nor  unconscious ; that  which  is  not  extended,  colored, 
fragrant,  or  possessed  of  any  sense-quality;  that  which  is 


1 It  should  be  noted,  once  more,  that  the  term  ‘matter’  is  not  nowadays 
applied  to  this  unknown-reality  hypothesis.  Modern  upholders  of  this 
theory  spurn  the  epithet  ‘materialist.’ 

2 “Dialogues,”  II.,  Open  Court  edition,  pp.  78  seq.  Cf.  “Principles,”  80. 

3 This  is  the  probable  meaning  of  Berkeley’s  objection  to  the  substratum 
hypothesis,  in  the  non-literal  sense  of  the  word  ‘substratum.’  Cf.  “Prin- 
ciples,” 16  et  al. 

4 “First  Principles,”  § 31. 


i32 


P luralistic  Spiritualism 


not  active,  nor  inactive,  cause  nor  effect;  that  of  which  no 
assertion  can  be  made, — is  nothing,  it  does  not  exist.  The 
hypothesis  of  matter  as  unknown  is,  in  other  words,  self-con- 
tradictory, for  if  it  really  is  unknown,  it  cannot  be  known  to  be 
material,  non-ideal.  “So,”  Berkeley  concludes,  “matter 
comes  to  nothing.”  1 

The  hypothesis  of  ultimate  reality  as  unknown  yet  non- 
ideal is  the  last  fortress  of  the  opponents  of  idealism.  In  his 
argument  against  them,  Berkeley  has  long  since  proved  beyond 
a perad venture  that  the  objects  immediately  perceived  are 
ideas.  He  has  now  concluded  his  examination  of  the  three 
conceptions  of  matter,  as  reality  which  though  unperceived 
may  yet  be  inferred  to  exist.  And  (i)  he  has  shown  that 
material  objects  like  our  ideas  of  them  may  not  be  inferred  to 
exist;  he  has  (2)  asserted,  what  on  his  premises  he  might 
validly  have  proved,  that  matter,  conceived  as  mere  inferred 
cause  of  sense-idea,  does  not  exist;  and  finally,  (3)  he  has 
shown  that  absolutely  unknown  material  reality  is  a mere 
fiction  of  the  mind.  Herewith,  the  opponents  of  idealism 
are,  as  it  seems  to  him,  finally  repulsed.2 

The  issue  between  idealism  and  non-idealism  (materialism, 
as  Berkeley  calls  it)  is  of  such  crucial  importance  that  it  jus- 
tifies us  in  considering,  at  this  point,  a form  of  argument  against 
it  which  has  grown  in  importance  since  Berkeley’s  day.  As 
will,  it  is  hoped,  appear,  the  objection  has  already  been  met  by 
Berkeley,  but  not  in  the  persuasive  form  in  which  it  has  been 
urged  since  his  day.3  In  brief  it  is  pointed  out  that  the  physi- 

1 “Dialogues,”  II.,  Open  Court  edition,  p.  80.  Cf.  “Principles,”  80. 
This  doctrine  of  unknowable  reality  is  again  brought  forward  by  Kant. 
Cf.  Chapter  7,  pp.  236  seq.  See  also  Hegel’s  discussion,  Chapter  10,  pp.  365  seq. 

2 Not  till  the  student  is  familiar  with  post-Kantian  philosophy  will  he 
fully  understand  why  these  three  conceptions  are  exhaustive.  Cf.  infra, 
Chapter  11,  pp.  398  seq. 

3 Cf.  Chapter  3,  pp.  632  seq.,  for  a statement  of  this  argument  as  it  is 
implied  by  Hobbes,  and  Chapter  1 1,  pp.  398  seq.,  for  a reference  to  nineteenth- 
century  materialists. 


The  System  of  Berkeley 


133 


ologists  have  shown  that  all  phenomena  of  consciousness 
depend  on  nerve-excitation;  and  this,  it  is  urged,  proves  that 
consciousness,  so  far  from  being  ultimately  real,  is  itself  a func- 
tion of  a material  process.  In  order  to  present  this  objection 
with  utmost  force  a passage  may  be  quoted  from  a materialist 
of  relatively  recent  date.  “If,”  says  Karl  Vogt,  “I  cut  off 
entirely  the  flow  of  blood  to  the  legs  of  an  animal,  the  func- 
tion of  the  muscles  is  entirely  destroyed  by  the  loss  of  nourish- 
ment, the  animal  cannot  move  its  legs,  its  muscles  are  lamed. 
. . . If  I let  the  blood  back  before  the  decomposition  of  the 
muscles  has  begun,  the  function  is  restored  ; . . . butifldonot 
let  back  any  more  blood,  the  muscle  dies  . . . and  there  is  an 
end  to  every  exercise  of  the  function.  ...  Now  suppose  that 
we  take  as  object  of  our  experiment  not  the  legs  but  the  head. 
We  cut  off  the  flow  of  blood  to  the  brain.  Immediately  con- 
sciousness ceases,  thought  is  utterly  annihilated,  sensation 
vanishes,  motion  is  checked,  every  function  of  the  brain  has 
simply  stopped. 

“If  I promptly  enough  let  back  the  blood  to  the  brain,  mo- 
tion, sensation,  consciousness,  and  thought  return  again, 
the  function  reinstates  itself.  But  if  I wait  till  the  organ  can 
no  longer  perform  its  function,  sensation,  motion,  conscious- 
ness, and  thought  are  forever  vanished.  ...  I reach  quite 
the  same  conclusion  in  the  case  of  this  experiment  as  in  that 
of  the  foregoing : that  because  of  failing  blood  supply  the  brain 
could  not  perform  its  function,  that  through  continuance  of 
this  condition  the  organ  has  died,  that  the  function  has  come 
to  an  end  with  the  organ  itself.  . . .nl  The  implication  is,  of 
course,  that  since  the  brain  is  material,  its  function,  conscious- 
ness, must  also  be  material.1 2 

Berkeley’s  reply  to  this  argument  for  materialism  is,  in  part, 
suggested  in  the  beginning  of  the  second  of  the  “ Dialogues 
between  Hylas  and  Philonous,”  and  is  in  part  to  be  supplied 

1 “ Kohlerglaube  und  Wissenschaft,”  II.,  Second  Edition,  1855,  pp. 
nr-112. 

2 Cf.  Vogt,  op.  cit.,  p.  1 18. 


134 


P luralistic  Spiritualism 


from  the  general  purport  of  his  teaching.  Blood  and  muscle, 
nerve  and  brain,  are  — he  holds  — sensible  objects;  in  the 
last  analysis  each  reduces  to  a sum  of  sensible  qualities,  each 
is  hard  or  soft,  fibrous  or  cellular,  grayish  or  red.  But  sense 
qualities  have  been  abundantly  shown  to  be  ideal.  Hence 
brain  and  nerve  are  not,  as  is  claimed,  ‘ material  substratum’ ; 
and  consciousness,  if  described  as  function  of  the  brain,  is  the 
function  of  an  idea.  And  if  it  is  claimed  that  brain  and  nerve 
are  not  mere  compounds  of  sense  qualities,  that  they  are  also 
the  necessarily  inferred  causes  of  ideas,  then  Berkeley  might 
answer  that  the  cause  of  consciousness,  as  inferred,  is  itself  an 
object  of  thought  and  thus  within  the  domain  of  consciousness. 

The  force  of  this  objection  lies,  in  truth,  first,  in  the  highly 
probable  correspondence  of  one  class  of  so-called  physical 
phenomena  with  facts  of  the  human  self’s  consciousness; 
second,  in  the  unjustified  assumption  that  the  physical  phe- 
nomena are  ultimately  distinct  from  psychic  phenomena, 
material  in  the  sense  of  being  non-ideal.  The  grounds  for 
such  a prejudice  are  removed  by  Berkeley’s  demonstration 
that  the  physical  object  is  itself  psychic,  and  that  the  distinc- 
tion between  the  alleged  material  reality  and  the  admitted 
idea  must  be  a distinction  between  ideas  of  a less  and 
of  a more  limited  self.  To  the  persuasive  form  of  material- 
ism founded  on  physio-psychology,  Berkeley’s  answer  is, 
therefore,  the  following : brain  and  nerve  process,  to  which 
it  is  proposed  to  reduce  consciousness,  are  themselves  ideal, 
that  is,  psychic. 

III.  Berkeley’s  Positive  Doctrine  of  Inferred 
Reality 

a.  The  infinite  spirit,  God 

The  conclusion  that  there  is  no  reality  independent  of  mind 
seems  to  leave  Berkeley  certain  only  of  the  existence  of  him- 
self and  of  his  own  ideas.  But  the  discovery  that  certain  of 


The  System  of  Berkeley 


*35 


his  ideas  are  impressed  upon  him  without  his  volition,  and 
indeed  in  opposition  to  his  wishes,  has  already  suggested  to 
Berkeley  that  some  spirit  other  than  himself  is  the  cause  of 
these  unwilled  ideas  of  sense.  In  truth,  Berkeley  widens 
his  universe  to  include,  besides  himself,  a creative  spirit, 
God,  and  other  created  spirits  as  well.  I am  conscious  of 
these  other  spirits,  Berkeley  teaches,  not  as  I am  conscious  of 
myself  with  primarily  immediate  certainty,  but  because  I 
necessarily  infer  their  existence.  “We  comprehend,”  he 
says,  “our  own  existence  by  inward  feeling  or  reflection  and 
that  of  other  spirits  by  reason.” 1 “ My  own  mind  and  my  own 
ideas,”  he  elsewhere  says,  “I  have  an  immediate  knowledge 
of ; and  by  the  help  of  these  do  mediately  apprehend  the  pos- 
sibility of  the  existence  of  other  spirits  and  ideas.”  2 

This  reasoning  by  which  we  infer  the  existence  of  a spirit, 
other  than  my  own,  which  causes  my  percepts,  or  ideas  of 
sense,  is  summarized  by  Berkeley  in  an  early  section  of  the 
“Principles”:  “I  find,”  he  says,  “I  can  excite  ideas  in  my 
mind  at  pleasure.  . . . It  is  no  more  than  willing  and  straight- 
way this  or  that  idea  arises.  . . . Thus  much  is  certain  and 
grounded  on  experience.  . . . But  whatever  power  I may 
have  over  my  own  thoughts,  I find  the  ideas  actually  per- 
ceived by  sense  have  not  a like  dependence  on  my  will.  When 
in  broad  daylight  I open  my  eyes,  it  is  not  in  my  power  to 
choose  whether  I shall  see  or  no  ... ; and  so  likewise  as  to 
the  hearing  and  other  senses,  the  ideas  imprinted  on  them  are 
not  creatures  of  my  will.  There  is,  therefore,  some  other 
will  or  spirit  that  produces  them.”  3 

This  argument  for  the  existence  of  a spirit,  other  than 
myself,  as  cause  of  my  percepts,  presupposes  the  demonstra- 
tion, already  given,  of  the  truth  that  spirit  alone  is  a cause. 
The  argument  in  full  may  be  summarized  in  the  following 

1 “Principles,”  89.  Cf.  the  doctrines  of  Descartes  and  of  Locke,  as  dis- 
cussed on  pp.  27  seq. 

2 “Dialogues,”  III.,  Open  Court  edition,  p.  93. 

3 “ Principles,”  28-29. 


Pluralistic  Spiritualism 


136 

manner:  (1)  I am  immediately  certain  of  the  existence  of  my 
ideas  of  sense.  (2)  These  ideas  must  have  a cause.  (3)  There 
are  three,  and  only  three,  possible  causes  for  an  idea  of  sense : 
first,  a spirit  or  spirits;  second,  another  idea;  third,  matter, 
that  is,  reality  independent  of  and  other  than  spirit  and 
idea. 

(4)  (a)  But  matter,  Berkeley  believes,  does  not  exist,  hence 
it  is  not  cause  of  ideas  of  sense;  and  (b)  these  ideas  cannot 
cause,  or  explain,  each  other,  since  they  are  passive  — that  is, 
dependent  for  their  existence  on  being  known  by  a self;1 
therefore  ( c ) a spirit,  or  spirits,  must  be  cause  of  the  ideas  of 
sense.  And  (5)  this  conclusion  is  supported  by  the  imme- 
diate experience  which  I,  a spirit,  have  of  causing  ideas. 

(6)  But  though  (a)  it  is  thus  proved  that  a spirit  causes  my 
ideas  of  sense,  I am  immediately  certain  that  I am  not  the 
cause  of  them,  but  that  I experience  them  in  spite  of  myself. 
Therefore  ( b ) some  spirit  other  than  myself  must  exist  as 
cause  of  my  percepts. 

The  existence  of  the  sense  ideas  ‘impressed  on  the  mind’ 
is  thus,  Berkeley  teaches,  the  guarantee  of  the  existence  of  a 
will  or  spirit  other  than  our  own.  And  the  nature  of  the 
sense  ideas  is,  he  holds,  the  basis  for  our  reasoning  about 
the  nature  of  this  other  spirit.  The  creative  spirit  must  be 
first  of  all,  Berkeley  argues,  eternal;  for  only  if  it  is  can  we 
account  for  the  continued  existence  of  sense  impressions  and 
their  acknowledged  independence  of  any  and  all  individual 
perceiving  selves.  “Sensible  things,”  he  says,  “.  . . have 
an  existence  exterior  to  my  mind,  since  I find  them  by  experi- 
ence to  be  independent  of  it.  There  is,  therefore,  some  other 
mind  wherein  they  exist,  during  the  intervals  between  the 
times  of  my  perceiving  them ; as  likewise  they  did  before  my 
birth  and  would  do  after  my  supposed  annihilation.  And  as 
the  same  is  true  with  regard  to  all  other  finite,  created  spirits 
it  necessarily  follows  that  there  is  an  omnipresent,  eternal 


1 Cf.  supra,  p.  1 1 5. 


The  System  of  Berkeley 


137 


Hind  which  knows  and  comprehends  all  things  and  exhibits 
them  to  our  view.”1 

The  character  of  these  ideas  of  sense  seems,  furthermore, 
to  Berkeley  a sufficient  argument  for  the  infinite  (or  perfect) 
power,  wisdom,  and  goodness  of  that  eternal  spirit  which  is 
inferred  as  their  author.  For  sense  experience,  the  sum  of 
the  ideas  of  sense,  thus  regarded  as  independent  of  my  par- 
ticular mind  and  more  permanent  than  my  special  ideas,  is 
what  is  meant  by  the  world  of  nature.  And  nature  is  char- 
acterized by  phenomena,  such  as  the  movements  of  the  stars, 
or  the  flow  of  rivers,  so  stupendous  that  only  a more  than 
human  power  could  produce  them ; by  phenomena,  such  as 
the  growth  of  plants  from  the  seed  or  of  animals  from  the  em- 
bryo, so  intricate,  that  only  more  than  human  wisdom  could 
produce  them ; finally,  by  a uniformity  and  regularity  so  ad- 
vantageous that  only  more  than  human  goodness  could  have 
caused  them.  “If,”  Berkeley  says,  “we  attentively  consider 
the  constant  regularity,  order,  and  concatenation  of  natural 
things,  the  surprising  magnificence,  beauty,  and  perfection  of 
the  larger,  and  the  exquisite  contrivance  of  the  smaller,  parts, 
of  the  creation,  together  with  the  exact  harmony  ...  of  the 
whole,  but  above  all,  the  never  enough  admired  laws  of  pain 
and  pleasure,  and  the  instincts  or  natural  inclinations,  appe- 
tites, and  passions  of  animals ; I say,  if  we  consider  all  these 
things  and  at  the  same  time  attend  to  the  meaning  ...  of 
the  attributes  one,  eternal,  infinitely  wise,  good,  and  perfect, 
we  shall  clearly  perceive  that  they  belong  to  the  aforesaid 
Spirit,  who  works  all  in  all,  and  by  whom  all  things  consist.”  2 

Berkeley,  it  is  evident,  does  not  argue  God’s  existence  after 
Descartes’s  and  Leibniz’s  fashion,  from  the  completeness  of 
the  idea  which  I have  of  God ; 3 nor  as  Descartes  and  Locke 
had  argued,  from  the  necessity  that  God  exists  as  cause  of  me;4 

1 “Dialogues,”  III.,  Open  Court  edition,  p.  91. 

2 “Principles,”  146;  cf.  151-153,  and  “Dialogues,”  II.,  Open  Court 
edition,  p.  62  seq. 

3 Cf.  supra,  pp.  46  seq. 


* Cf.  supra,  pp.  47  seq. 


1 38  Pluralistic  Spiritualism 

nor  like  Descartes  from  the  necessity  that  God  exists  to  cause 
the  idea  of  God  within  me.1  He  argues  simply  that  God 
must  exist  as  cause  of  external  objects. 

b.  Other  created  spirits 

The  existence  of  created  spirits  other  than  myself  is  also 
argued  from  my  percepts  — in  particular  from  my  percepts 
of  bodily  movement.  “It  is  plain,”  Berkeley  says,  “that  we 
cannot  know  the  existence  of  other  spirits  otherwise  than  by 
their  operations  or  the  ideas  by  them  excited  in  us.  I per- 
ceive several  . . . combinations  of  ideas  that  inform  me  there 
are  certain  particular  agents,  like  myself,  which  accompany 
them  and  concur  in  their  production.  . . . When,  therefore, 
we  see  the  color,  size,  figure,  and  motions  of  a man,  we  per- 
ceive only  certain  sensations  or  ideas  excited  in  our  own  minds ; 
and  these  being  exhibited  to  our  view  in  sundry,  distinct  col- 
lections, serve  to  mark  out  unto  us  the  existence  of  finite  and 
created  spirits  like  ourselves.”  2 The  argument  is  twofold, 
from  cause  and  from  analogy.  I have  certain  ideas,  say,  of  a 
moving  figure,  waving  hands,  and  loud  sounds;  these  ideas 
resemble  others  which  I myself  at  times  produce,  yet  I am 
not  the  cause  of  these  ideas.  I infer,  therefore,  the  existence 
of  other  finite  spirits  ‘accompanying  and  represented  by’ 
ideas  which  resemble  those  produced  by  my  own  agency. 
Berkeley  is  at  pains  to  add  that  the  existence  of  finite  spirits  is 
inferred  with  far  less  certainty  than  that  of  God.  For,  he 
says,  “whereas  some  one  finite  and  narrow  assemblage  of  ideas 
denotes  a particular  human  mind,  whithersoever  we  direct 
our  view,  we  do  at  all  times  and  in  all  places  perceive  manifest 
tokens  of  the  Divinity : everything  we  see,  hear,  feel,  or  any- 
wise perceive  by  sense,  being  a sign  or  effect  of  the  power  of 
God ; as  is  our  perception  of  those  very  motions  which  are 
produced  by  men.” 


1 Cf.  supra,  p.  49 


2 “Principles,”  145,  148. 


The  System  of  Berkeley 


139 


c.  The  world  0}  nature 

Berkeley  conceives  God  as  creator,  not  only  of  lesser  spirits, 
but  of  the  world  of  nature.  Nature  is  thus,  he  teaches,  a sys- 
tem of  ideas — “ the  visible  series  of  . . . sensations,  imprinted 
on  our  minds,”  1 by  God,  which  corresponds  to  the  system  of 
ideas  eternally  present  to  God’s  mind.  The  laws  of  nature 
are  God’s  uniform  and  regular  ways  of  calling  up  these  sense 
ideas  in  our  minds.  In  Berkeley’s  own  words,  “The  set 
rules  or  established  methods  wherein  the  mind  we  depend  on 
excites  in  us  the  ideas  of  sense  are  called  the  laws  0}  nature: 
and  these  we  learn  by  experience,  which  teaches  us  that  such 
and  such  ideas  are  attended  with  such  and  such  other  ideas, 
in  the  ordinary  course  of  things.”2 

This  conception  of  nature  will  become  clearer  by  analysis 
I may  regard  the  world  of  nature  as  composed,  roughly  speak- 
ing, of  (1)  the  sense  things,  trees,  sky,  and  flowers,  at  which  I 
am  at  this  moment  looking ; (2)  the  sense  things,  for  example, 
the  Mer  de  Glace  and  the  Pyramids,  which  either  I have  seen 
or  have  heard  described  by  others ; (3)  the  nature  phenomena, 
for  example,  the  motions  of  the  stars,  whose  present  reality 
I infer  in  order  to  explain  the  things  I immediately  experience ; 
and  (4)  the  nature  events  whose  past  existence  I infer  to  ac- 
count for  phenomena  immediately  perceived  in  the  present. 
To  this  last  class  belong  early  stages  of  the  development  of 
the  universe,  the  whirling  of  the  nebular  mass  or  the  glacial 
epoch,  for  example.  Berkeley  regards  all  four  sorts  of 
nature  phenomena  both  as  immediate  ideas  of  God,  and 
either  as  immediate  percepts  or  as  ideas  of  imagination  of  my 
own.  The  first  group,  that  of  the  things  I see,  consists  of 
ideas  which  God  shares  with  me  by  impressing  them  on  my 
mind.  The  second,  that  of  the  things  I remember  seeing  or 

1 “Principles,”  150. 

2 Ibid.,  30;  cf.  105;  and  “Dialogues,”  III.,  Open  Court  edition,  p.  108. 


*40 


Pluralistic  Spiritualism 


imagine  from  another’s  description,  have  been  ideas  of  sense 
impressed  on  me,  or  on  some  other  finite  being,  and  are 
now  ideas  of  my  imagination.  The  third  is  a group 
of  nature  phenomena  beyond  human  perception,  but  inferred 
as  now  existing.  When  we  say  that  the  earth  moves,  Berke 
ley  observes,  we  mean  “that  if  we  were  placed  in  . . . such  a 
position  and  distance,  both  from  the  earth  and  sun,  we  should 
perceive  the  former  to  move  among  the  choir  of  the  planets.”  1 
Our  assertion  that  the  earth  moves  is  thus  our  image  of  the 
moving  earth,  and  we  know  this  idea  of  ours  to  conform  to 
an  idea  in  God’s  mind,  and  to  be  regularly  connected  with 
other  sense  ideas,  for  instance,  with  those  known  as  sunrise 
and  sunset.  The  fourth  class  of  nature  phenomena  includes 
the  objects  which,  arguing  from  nature  uniformities,  may  have 
existed,  we  suppose,  before  the  appearance  of  finite  spirits  on  the 
earth.  These  evidently  neither  are,  nor  have  been,  the  sense 
ideas  of  any  finite  selves,  nor  can  they  even  be  considered  as 
such.  They  are  ideas  of  our  scientific  imagination,  and  they 
are  the  eternally  present,  direct  objects  of  the  consciousness 
of  the  eternal  spirit.  “When  things  are  said  to  begin  or  end 
their  existence,”  Berkeley  says,  “we  do  not  mean  this  with 
regard  to  God,  but  his  creatures.  All  objects  are  eternally 
known  by  God,  or,  which  is  the  same  thing,  have  an  eternal 
existence  in  his  mind  : but  when  things,  before  imperceptible 
to  creatures,  are  by  a decree  of  God  perceptible  to  them ; then 
are  they  said  to  begin  a relative  existence  with  respect  to 
created  minds.”  2 In  other  words,  the  nature  world  has  a 
double  existence.  It  is,  on  the  one  hand,  a closely  connected 
system  of  ideas  eternally  present  to  God,  and,  on  the  other 
hand,  a uniform  series  of  ideas  in  finite  minds,  corresponding 
to  the  system  of  God’s  ideas.  Of  these  finite  ideas,  some  are 
ideas  of  sense  directly  impressed  by  God  on  a succession  of 
finite  minds ; others  are  necessary  inferences,  ideas  of  imagi- 

1 “Principles,”  58. 

2 “Dialogues,”  III.,  Open  Court  edition,  p.  iai- 


The  System  of  Berkeley 


141 

nation,  corresponding  to  phenomena  existing  in  God’s  mind 
and  never  directly  impressed  by  him  on  finite  minds. 

It  is  interesting  to  contrast  this  conception  of  nature  with 
that  of  Leibniz.  Both  Berkeley  and  Leibniz  teach  that 
nature  has  no  existence  independent  of  mind  — in  a word, 
that  it  is  immaterial.  Both  teach  also  that  my  knowledge  of 
nature  is  through  my  acquaintance  with  my  own  sense  ideas. 
But  whereas  Berkeley  teaches  that  nature  consists  in  these 
sense  ideas  of  mine  together  with  a complete  system  of  cor- 
responding ideas  in  the  mind  of  God,  Leibniz  teaches  that  my 
sense  ideas  indicate,  as  the  reality  behind  them,  monads, 
soul-like  substances,  undeveloped  spirits.  Thus  Berkeley 
argues  from  his  experience  of  certain  sense  ideas  of  motions 
and  bodily  features  like  his  own,  the  existence  of  created 
selves.  In  a parallel  fashion,  Leibniz  argues  from  all  sense 
ideas  the  presence  of  active  souls. 

IV.  Critical  Estimate  of  Berkeley’s  System 

It  is  necessary,  in  conclusion,  to  attempt  an  estimate  of  the 
positive  results  of  Berkeley’s  system.  It  is  evident  from  the 
outline  that  his  philosophy  is  essentially  a theology  — a doc- 
trine about  God.  Naturally,  therefore,  the  criticisms  to  be 
made  regard  in  the  first  instance  Berkeley’s  arguments  for 
God’s  existence  and  his  conception  of  God’s  nature. 

a.  Criticism  of  Berkeley's  doctrine  about  God 

Against  Berkeley’s  argument  for  God’s  existence,  it  may 
be  urged  that  it  proves  at  most  merely  the  existence  of  a spirit 
great  enough  and  wise  enough  to  produce  nature  as  we  know  it.  L 
Berkeley’s  argument,  as  has  been  shown,  consists  simply  and 
solely  in  the  inference  that  a spirit  must  exist  as  cause  of 
those  ideas  which  I myself  do  not  produce.  But  it  is  far 
from  evident  that  a spirit  adequate  to  produce  nature  should 
be  ‘eternal,  infinitely  wise,  good  and  perfect.’ 


142 


Pluralistic  Spiritualism 


Berkeley  argues  the  eternity  of  God  on  the  ground  that 
‘ sensible  things  ’ 1 exist  before  the  birth  and  would  exist  after 
the  annihilation  of  all  ‘finite  created  spirits.’  Therefore, 
Berkeley  concludes,  in  a passage  already  quoted,2  there  is  an 
omnipresent,  eternal  mind  which  knows  and  “ comprehends 
all  things.”  It  will  be  observed  that,  by  this  argument, 
the  eternity  of  God  is  as  sure  as  — but  no  surer  than  — 
the  eternity  of  physical  objects.  But  concerning  physical 
objects  I know  only  that  they  exist  independently  of  me;  I 
infer  with  the  highest  probability,  but  I do  not  directly  know, 
that  they  are  more  permanent  than  my  ideas.  And  certainly 
I do  not  know  that  the  series  of  physical  phenomena  is  eter- 
nal.3 Berkeley  has  thus  a right  to  argue : since  things  are 
the  ideas  of  some  spirit,  therefore  as  surely  as  objects  exist 
and  have  existed,  when  no  human  self  has  perceived  them, 
there  exists  a spirit  greater-than-human,  with  as  great  a per- 
manence as  the  series  of  things.  But  farther  than  this 
Berkeley  cannot  go.  He  cannot,  in  other  words,  prove  the 
eternity  of  the  creative  spirit,  for  he  cannot  prove  that  there 
is  an  eternity  of  sensible  things. 

(2)  Berkeley’s  proof  of  the  infinite  perfection,  that  is,  the 
utter  completeness  of  this  creative  spirit,  is  even  more  inade- 
quate. He  argues,  it  will  be  remembered,  from  an  ‘attentive 
observation’  of  the  ‘order,’  the  ‘harmony’  and  the  ‘infinite 
contrivance’  of  nature  that  only  an  absolutely  wise  and  good 
God  could  have  created  them.  It  is  obvious  that  such  a 
conclusion  can  be  reached  only  by  the  most  one-sided  obser- 
vation of  nature,  only  in  truth  by  a persistent  refusal  to  regard 
all  that  is  inexplicable  or  evil.  One  may  indeed  find,  in 
the  nature  world,  ‘order’  and  ‘exquisite  contrivance’;  but 
besides  organs  adapted  to  use  there  are  rudimentary  organs 
which  are  useless  and  even  harmful  to  the  organism;  subor- 

1 Cf.  supra,  p.  119.  ‘Eternal,’  is  here  used  in  the  sense  ‘everlasting.’ 

2 Cf.  supra,  p.  125. 

5 Cf.  Karl  Pearson’s  expression  of  this  doubt,  “The  Grammar  of  Sci- 
ence ” (Second  Editian),  Chapter  4,  especially  § 7. 


The  System  of  Berkeley 


143 


dinate  to  the  surviving  forms  of  life  are  ‘smaller  parts  of 
creation  whose  life  has  no  end  save  destruction  ’ ; side  by  side 
with  the  ‘never  enough  admired  laws’  of  the  ‘pain  and  pleas- 
ure’ which  make  for  physical  and  moral  perfection  are  the 
suffering  and  anguish  which  seem  to  avail  nothing.  It  is 
evidently,  then,  illegitimate  in  the  face  of  the  waste  and  the 
destructiveness  of  nature  — the  carelessness  of  type  and  of 
individual  alike — to  argue,  as  Berkeley  does,  that  the  charac- 
ter of  our  sense  percepts  evidently  shows  the  existence  of  an 
infinitely  wise  and  good  God.  It  is  possible,  to  be  sure,  that 
the  wisdom  and  goodness  of  God  may  be  otherwise  demon- 
strated ; and  if  this  can  be  done  it  is  certainly  true  as  Berkeley 
suggests  that  the  ‘ mixture  of  pain  and  uneasiness  which  is  in 
the  world’  may  be  reconciled  with  the  truth  of  God’s  wisdom 
and  goodness.1  But  it  is  a different  thing  to  reconcile  the 
apparent  defects  of  nature  with  the  kindly  wisdom  of  its 
creator,  after  that  has  been  proved,  and  to  argue,  as  Berkeley 
argues,  precisely  from  the  character  of  the  nature  world  to  the 
goodness  and  wisdom  of  God.  Such  an  argument  is  obviously 
based  on  defective  observation. 

(3)  A more  fundamental  difficulty,  and  yet  one  which  is  more 
readily  avoided,  concerns  Berkeley’s  conception  of  creation. 
The  hypothesis  of  God  as  creator  is  expressly  based  by  him  on 
my  alleged  immediate  knowledge  of  myself  as  creating  ideas. 
But  my  creativeness  may  well  be  questioned.  In  what 
sense,  one  may  ask,  do  I create  ideas?  Is  there  any  trace 
in  my  experience  of  that  ‘making  out  of  nothing’  in  which 
creation  is  supposed  to  consist?  I call  myself  creative  in 
certain  moments  of  imagination  and  thought.  But  what  do 
I actually  experience  in  thinking  out  a mathematical  demon- 
stration or  in  striking  out  the  plot  of  a story?  I turn  my 
mind  toward  the  general  topic  of  my  interest ; I regard  the 
topic  steadfastly  from  all  sides;  idea  after  idea  dawns  upon 
me,  and  — of  a sudden  — there  arrives  on  the  scene  that 


1 Cf.  Chapter  11,  p.  430. 


144 


P luralistic  Spiritualism 


particular  idea  which  I recognize  as  the  solution  of  my  prob- 
lem or  the  satisfaction  of  my  aesthetic  impulse.  Berkeley 
would  say  that  I create  the  idea,  yet  it  certainly  is  also  true 
that  I did  not  make  it,  that  it  merely  appears  suddenly  here 
within  my  consciousness.  But  if  we  conceive  the  greater 
spirit,  as  Berkeley  (rightly)  does,  on  the  analogy  of  our  own 
spirits,  it  will  be  truer  to  our  own  experience  to  speak  of  it 
as  the  ‘possessor’  or  the  ‘subject’  of  ideas  rather  than  as 
their  cause.  Such  a rereading  of  the  Berkeleian  conception 
does  not  essentially  alter  it  and  indeed  contributes,  as  will 
be  shown,  to  the  solution  of  still  other  difficulties. 

(4)  A similar  though  greater  difficulty  is  the  inadequacy  of 
Berkeley’s  conception  of  the  relation  of  the  creative  spirit 
to  myself.  This  conception  is  never  clearly  outlined,  but  the 
implication  of  Berkeley’s  teaching,  that  God  is  inferred  from 
ideas  which  he  gives  us,  not  directly  known,  is  that  God  is 
radically  distinct  from  us,  a God,  as  it  were,  outside  us. 
But  if  this  be  true,  it  may  well  be  urged  that  it  is  impossible 
to  understand  how  God  can  be  conceived  as  affecting  us  at 
all  — let  alone  as  ‘exciting’  ideas  in  us.  We  certainly  have 
no  direct  knowledge  of  such  excitation  on  the  part  of  God. 
The  sense  ideas,  like  the  so-called  products  of  our  own  imagi- 
nation and  thought,  simply  ‘are  here’  and  we  are  conscious 
of  them.  The  relation  between  God  and  the  limited  spirits 
is  indeed,  in  the  opinion  of  the  writer,  comprehensible  only 
on  the  supposition  that  the  lesser  spirits  are,  in  a sense,  parts 
of  the  greater  spirit  so  that  his  ideas  are  at  the  same  time 
their  ideas.  This  conception  contradicts  Berkeley’s,  in  so 
far  as  it  implies,  on  our  part,  a direct  and  no  longer  a mediate 
knowledge  of  God.  But  there  are  certain  indications  that, 
in  an  obscure  way,  inconsistent  with  his  own  main  teaching, 
Berkeley  did  conceive  of  God  as  including  rather  than  as 
creating  spirit.  In  one  passage,  at  least,  he  speaks  of  God 
as  “a  spirit  . . . intimately  present  to  our  minds”1  — an 

1 “Principles,”  149.  Cf.“ Dialogues,”  III.  (passage  quoted  supra,  p.  1253). 


The  System  of  Berkeley 


145 


expression  which  implies  the  futility  of  inferring  God,  by 
teaching  that  he  is  immediately  present.  More  than  this, 
the  double  definition  of  external  things  — on  the  one  hand,  as 
my  sense  percepts,  yet  at  the  same  time  as  God’s  ideas  — 
is  unintelligible  unless  God’s  ideas  may  be  mine,  unless  I 
possess  them  in  so  far  as  I,  the  limited  self,  am  included 
within  the  unlimited  spirit.  Such  a conception,  as  will  be 
shown,  does  away  with  two  of  the  further  objections  to 
Berkeley’s  system.1 

b.  Criticism  0}  Berkeley's  theory  of  knowledge 

It  has  been  shown  that  Berkeley  conceives  of  knowledge 
as  a copy  of  something.  As  has  also  been  indicated,  this 
doctrine  leads  him  to  the  admission  that  we  have  no  ideas  of 
spirit.  For  ideas,  he  argues,  are  passive  and  inert;  and  can- 
not therefore  resemble  active  spirit.  He  has  had  recourse, 
therefore,  to  the  theory  that  one  may  have  ‘ notions  ’ — though 
not  ideas  — of  spirit.  And  yet  by  his  teaching  about 
‘passivity,’  Berkeley  tacitly  admits  that  ‘notions’  no  less  than 
ideas  are  passive.  The  activity  of  a spirit,  he  himself  has 
shown,2  consists  simply  in  being  a conscious  subject,  and  the 
passivity  of  the  ideas  is  nothing  more  than  ‘being  perceived.’ 
Now  ‘notions’  as  well  as  ideas  are  certainly  passive  in  this 
sense : they  are  not  conscious  subjects  and  they  are  perceived 
objects  of  consciousness.  Thus  a ‘notion  of  spirit’  is  as 
inherently  impossible  as  an  idea  of  spirit. 

This  is  doubtless  the  most  serious  of  all  the  criticisms  on 
Berkeley’s  teaching ; for  it  shows  that,  on  his  own  principles, 
he  has  no  right  to  that  knowledge  of  his  own  existence  on 
which  his  whole  system  is  based.  Berkeley’s  conclusions 
are,  therefore,  rescued  only  by  abandoning  his  theory  of 

1 The  conception  of  the  finite  spirits  as  included  within  the  Infinite  Spirit 
was  held  in  Berkeley’s  time  by  Malebranche  and  his  English  disciple,  John 
Norris.  (Cf.  Appendix,  pp.  464,  491.)  For  a fuller  discussion  of  this 
difficult  subject,  cf.  infra,  Chapter  xi,  pp.  435  seq. 

2 Cf.  p.  1 16. 

L 


f o 


146 


P luralistic  Spiritualism 


knowledge  and  by  admitting  — as  already  we  have  seen 
reason  to  admit  — that  one  knows  at  least  one’s  own  spirit 
directly,  without  interposition  of  those  abstractions,  the  ideas. 
Berkeley  himself,  as  has  been  shown,  implicitly  teaches  that 
we  have  this  direct  knowledge.  The  truth  is  that  to  say  “a 
self  has  successive  ideas”  is  simply  another  way  of  saying 
that  a self  is  conscious.  But  the  idea-conception,  even  were 
it  adequate  to  represent  the  conscious  experience  of  a single 
self,  is  distinctly  unequal  to  the  representation  of  the  relations 
of  selves,  and  should  not  be  employed  with  reference  to  them. 
Love  and  hate,  sympathy  and  contempt,  are  personal  attitudes 
and  cannot  be  adequately  described  as  series  of  psychic 
phenomena.1 

The  conception  of  knowledge  as  direct  and  not  mere  copy 
encounters,  as  must  frankly  be  confessed,  greater  difficulty 
when  applied,  not  to  my  knowledge  of  myself,  but  to  my  knowl- 
edge of  other  selves — God,  and  finite  spirits.  The  subject 
cannot  fairly  be  discussed  in  any  detail  at  this  stage  of  our 
advance,  but  the  following  preliminary  and  so  far  dogmatic 
statement  may  be  made:  In  being  directly  conscious  of 
myself  I am  conscious  of  myself  as  related  to  other-than- 
myself.  But,  as  Berkeley  and  Leibniz  have  shown,  all  reality 
is  ultimately  spirit,  or  self.  Therefore  that  other-than- 
myself,  which  I know  in  knowing  myself  as  related  to  it, 
must  be  other  self  (or  selves).  The  characters  and  extent 
of  such  another  self  are,  of  course,  matters  of  inference,  not  of 
direct  knowledge.  The  difficulty  in  this  conception  is,  it  is 
needless  to  say,  the  following:  how,  if  a self  is  other-than-I, 
can  I directly  and  certainly  know  it;  since  that  which  has 
given  to  my  consciousness  of  myself  its  peculiar  certainty  is 
the  fact  that  it  is  just  myself  and  no  other  of  whom  I am 
conscious  ? The  solution  of  the  difficulty  must  consist  in  the 
attempt  to  show  that  there  is  a certain  sense  in  which  the  other 
self  is  ultimately  not  another.  For  if  all  finite  selves  are 


1 Cf.  the  writer’s  “An  Introduction  to  Psychology,”  pp.  263  seq. 


The  System  of  Berkeley 


147 


expressions  of  the  infinite  self,  then  in  one  way  each  is  what 
the  other  is,  so  that  direct  knowledge  of  one  by  the  other  is 
conceivable.1  Thus,  Berkeley’s  ‘copy  theory’  of  knowledge, 
as  the  mere  possession  of  ideas  resembling  either  spirits  or 
else  other  ideas,  must,  it  seems,  be  rejected.  For,  on  this 
theory,  as  has  appeared,  a knowledge  of  spirit  is  impossible. 
But  Berkeley  has  no  need  of  this  invalid  hypothesis  of  passive 
notions  which  resemble  active  spirit,  since  knowledge  is  no 
mere  possession  of  mechanical  copies,  but  is,  essentially,  the 
immediate  presence  of  spirit  to  spirit. 

It  would  not  be  difficult  to  add  to  these  criticisms  of  Berke- 
ley’s system.  In  particular,  it  should  be  noted  that  the  proof 
just  given,  that  he  overemphasizes  the  idea-as-such,  makes  it 
likely  that  his  view  of  external  nature,  as  a system  of  ideas, 
is  less  probable  than  Leibniz’s  conception  of  nature  as  an 
assemblage  of  spiritual  beings.  It  could  also  be  shown  that 
Berkeley,  in  spite  of  his  accurate  conception  of  nature  uni- 
formity, undervalues  scientific  study.2  It  is  evident,  finally, 
that  he  does  not  critically  examine  the  non-sensuous  factors 
of  knowledge.  No  one  of  these  criticisms,  however,  affects 
the  fundamental  positions  of  Berkeley’s  system;  therefore, 
no  one  of  them  need,  for  the  present,  be  emphasized. 

With  these  criticisms,  the  consideration  of  Berkeley’s 
system  is  completed.  It  has  been  shown  that  Berkeley 
teaches  negatively  (1)  that  so-called  ‘material’  things  are 
really  the  ideas  of  some  mind,  or  minds;  and  (2)  that 
matter,  as  unknown  cause  or  background  of  these  material 
things,  does  not  exist.  The  first  of  these  positions,  in  the 
writer’s  opinion,  he  makes  good ; for  the  second  he  does  not 
offer,  but  he  plainly  suggests,  a proof.  Berkeley  teaches  posi- 

1 For  further  discussion,  cf.  Chapter  11,  pp.  416  seq. 

2 Cf.  the  rank  scientific  heresy  of  “Principles,”  109:  “As  in  reading  other 
books  a wise  man  will  choose  to  fix  his  thoughts  on  the  sense  . . . rather  than 
lay  them  out  in  grammatical  remarks  on  the  language  ...  so  in  perusing 
the  volume  of  nature  it  seems  beneath  the  dignity  of  the  mind  to  affect  an 
exactness  in  reducing  each  particular  phenomenon  to  general  rules,  or 
showing  how  it  follows  from  them.” 


148 


Pluralistic  Spiritualism 


tively  (1)  that  the  universe  consists  of  spirits  and  their  ideas 
(or  notions) ; (2)  that  these  spirits  include  myself,  other  finite 
selves,  and  God  — an  infinitely  wise  and  good  spirit;  (3)  that 
finite  spirits  create  certain  of  their  own  ideas  and  notions 
and  receive  certain  others  from  God  ; (4)  that  external  nature 
is  to  be  conceived  as  made  up  of  the  ideas  of  God,  often 
shared  by  finite  selves,  and  ordered  in  accordance  with  the 
laws  of  his  being  — that  is,  of  the  laws  of  nature.  The  main 
criticisms  on  this  doctrine  have  consisted,  first,  in  pointing 
out  that  Berkeley’s  argument  for  the  existence  of  God  cannot 
prove  more  than  the  existence  of  a greater-than-human  spirit, 
and  is  utterly  inadequate  to  demonstrate  the  eternity  or  the 
perfect  wisdom  and  goodness  of  this  spirit ; second,  in  showing 
the  unnecessary  flaws  in  Berkeley’s  doctrine  of  knowledge. 

Important  contrasts  between  Berkeley’s  idealism  and  that 
of  Leibniz  have  disclosed  themselves  in  the  course  of  this 
chapter.  The  differences  in  the  two  arguments  for  the 
existence  of  God  and  in  the  two  doctrines  of  nature  have 
already  been  pointed  out.  But  the  fundamental  contrast  is 
the  following : Leibniz  is  no  less  interested  in  the  unique 
individuality  and  — as  he  holds  — the  consequent  ultimate 
plurality  of  spirits,  than  in  their  common  spiritual,  non- 
material character.  Berkeley,  on  the  other  hand,  though  he 
accepts  without  question  the  doctrine  that  ultimate  reality 
consists  of  a plurality  of  distinct  spirits,  does  not  emphasize 
or  concern  himself  greatly  with  this  doctrine  and  its  impli- 
cations. But  Berkeley  makes  a distinct  advance  upon  Leib- 
niz in  the  strength  and  detail  of  his  argument  against 
materialism.  Leibniz  asserts  the  unreality  of  alleged  mat- 
ter, but  he  nowhere  adequately  substantiates  his  conclu- 
sions; Berkeley,  on  the  contrary,  devotes  himself  to  the 
painstaking  refutation  of  the  claims  of  materialism.  Yet  the 
most  significant  of  Berkeley’s  positive  results  is,  as  has  been 
said  so  often,  no  other  than  the  most  important  of  Leibniz’s 
conclusions : the  conception  of  the  universe  as  a community 
of  spiritual  beings. 


CHAPTER  VI 


PLURALISTIC  PHENOMENALISTIC  IDEALISM:  THE 
SYSTEM  OF  HUME 


“ Hume  . . . had  neither  any  twist  of  vice  nor  any  bias  for  doing  good, 
but  was  a philosopher  because  he  could  not  help  it.”  — T.  H.  Green. 

Close  upon  the  idealistic  system  of  that  genial  Irish  church- 
man, Bishop  Berkeley,  follows  an  idealism  of  a very  different 
sort  — that  of  the  Scotchman,  David  Hume,  who  was  scep- 
tic, critic,  diplomat,  historian,  and  man  of  the  world,  as  well 
as  philosopher.  Like  Leibniz  and  Berkeley,  Hume  teaches 
that  reality  is  through  and  through  immaterial,  but  he  does 
not  conceive  of  this  immaterial  universe  after  their  fashion,  as 
a society  of  related  selves.  Rather,  he  believes  the  universe 
to  consist  of  a great  complex  of  ever  shifting  sensations  and 
images,  or,  to  use  his  own  words,  of  impressions  and  ideas. 
In  technical  terms,  Hume’s  philosophy,  while  numerically 
pluralistic,  is  qualitatively  an  idealistic,  but  a phenomenal- 
istic  monism.  The  many  individual  beings  of  his  universe 
are  not  selves  or  spirits,  but  psychic  phenomena,  impressions, 
and  ideas.  It  is  difficult  to  overemphasize  the  historical  im- 
portance of  this  new  direction  in  idealism.  Up  to  Hume’s 
time  no  modern  philosopher  had  doubted  that  an  immaterial, 
an  ideal,  universe  must  mean  a universe  composed  of  spirit- 
ual beings,  of  selves.  Hume  challenges  this  belief,  denies  the 
existence  of  spirit  no  less  than  that  of  matter,  and  conceives 
the  universe  as  immaterial  indeed,  but  as  composed  not  of 
selves,  but  of  ideas. 

This  account  of  Hume’s  doctrine  is,  in  a way,  misleading, 

149 


150  Pluralistic  Phenomenalistic  Idealism 


in  that  it  lays  the  emphasis  on  his  positive  conception  of  the 
universe,  whereas  Hume’s  teaching  is,  above  all,  negative, 
and  Hume  himself  was  sceptic,  not  constructive  philosopher, 
was  destroyer  of  traditional  beliefs  rather  than  founder  of  a 
new  system.  The  truth  is,  however,  that  one  cannot  tear 
down  without  at  the  same  time  heaping  up,  and  accordingly 
Hume,  in  questioning  both  materialism  and  idealism,  really 
formulated  a new  doctrine. 

I.  The  Foundation  Principles  of  Hume’s  Metaphysics  1 

The  positive  doctrine  to  which  Hume’s  scepticism  com- 
mitted him  has  two  foundation  principles.  One  of  these  is 
his  teaching  about  impressions;  the  other  is  his  causality 
doctrine.  Before  proceeding  to  the  consideration  of  Hume’s 
conclusions,  it  is  therefore  necessary  to  understand  and  to 
estimate  these  two  underlying  conceptions. 

a.  The  derivation  0}  idea  from  impression 

“The  perceptions  of  the  human  mind  resolve  themselves,” 
Hume  says,  “into  two  distinct  kinds  which  I shall  call  im- 
pressions and  ideas.  The  difference  betwixt  these,”  he 
continues,  “consists  in  the  degrees  of  force  and  liveliness 
with  which  they  strike  upon  the  mind  and  make  their  way 
into  our  thought  or  consciousness.  Those  perceptions  which 
enter  with  most  force  and  violence  we  may  name  impressions ; 
and  under  this  name  I comprehend  all  our  sensations,  pas- 
sions,  aricT emotions,  as  they  make~ their  first  _appearance  in 
me~souk  By  ideas  I mean  the  faint  images  of  these  in  think- 
ing and  reasoning ; such  as,  for  instance,  are  all  the  percep- 

1 The  outline  which  follows  is  based  mainly  on  Bk.  I.  of  Hume’s  “Treatise 
of  Human  Nature’’  (published  1739),  and  on  the  “Inquiry  concerning 
Human  Understanding”  (1748).  The  student  is  urged  to  read  the  “In- 
quiry” entire,  and  Pt.  I.  entire,  Pt.  III.,  §§  1-3,  and  especially  14,  and  Pt.  IV., 
§§  5 and  6,  of  the  “Treatise.”  Page  references  in  what  follows  are  to  the 
Green  and  Grose  edition  of  the  “Treatise,”  and  to  the  Open  Court  edi- 
tion of  the  “Inquiry.” 


The  System  of  Hume 


I5i 

tions  excited  by  the  present  discourse,  excepting  only  those 
which  arise  from  the  sight  and  touch,  and  excepting  the 
immediate  pleasure  or  uneasiness  it  may  occasion.”  1 

This  introductory  statement  makes  evident  that  Hume 
recognizes  two  groups  of  sensations : impressions  of  sensation, 
as  he  later  names  them  — of  sight,  touch,  and  the  rest ; and 
impressions  of  reflection,  pleasure  and  uneasiness,  the  affec- 
tive experiences,  as  modem  psychologists  have  called  them.11 
The  quoted  paragraph  further  indicates  the  three  main  dif- 
ferences which  Hume  makes  between  impressions  and  ideas. 
The  impressions  are  (1)  livelier,  more  forcible,  more  vivid, 
than  ideas;  and  (2)  in  occurrence,  prior  to  ideas.  From  this 
last-named  character  it  follows,  Hume  teaches,  (3)  that  im- 
pressions are  the  necessary  cause  or  source  of  ideas,  and 
conversely  that  ideas  are  the  mere  effects  and  copies  of  im- 
pressions: “All  our  simple  ideas  in  their  first  appearance  are 
deriv’d  from  simple  impressions  — which  they  exactly  rep- 
resent. . . . The  constant  conjunction  of  our  resembling 
perceptions  is  a convincing  proof  that  the  one  are  the  cause 
of  the  other ; and  this  priority  of  the  impressions  is  an  equal 
proof  that  our  impressions  are  the  causes  of  our  ideas.” 3 

1 “Treatise,”  Bk.  I.,  Pt.  I.,  § i1;  cf.  “Inquiry,”  § II.  (Here,  and  in  what 
follows,  the  term  “Inquiry”  is  to  be  understood  as  referring  to  the  “ Inquiry 
concerning  Human  Understanding.”  “The  Inquiry  concerning  the  Prin- 
ciples of  Morals”  will  be  referred  to  by  the  last  three  words  of  the  title.) 

It  is  imperative  to  note  the  distinction  between  the  use  which  Hume 
makes  and  that  which  Locke  and  Berkeley  make  of  the  word  ‘idea.’  To 
the  latter  the  word  stands  for  any  fact  of  consciousness  or  psychic  phenome- 
non as  object  of  knowledge  — for  percept,  image,  or  emotion.  Hume,  on 
the  contrary,  employs  the  term  ‘perception’  in  this  general  sense,  and  uses 
‘idea,’  as  will  be  shown,  to  designate  one  class  of  ‘perceptions,’  the  less  vivid. 
Modern  usage  vibrates  between  these  two  extremes.  The  writer  of  this 
book  prefers  to  use  the  term  ‘idea’  in  the  more  general  sense  of  Locke. 

2 This  division  is  expressly  made  in  the  “Treatise”  (Bk.  I.,  Pt.  I.,  § 2), 
and  is  implied  in  the  “Inquiry”  (§  II.,  paragraph  3).  Hume  includes  ‘de- 
sire and  aversion,  hope  and  fear,’  among  the  impressions  of  reflection,  but 
he  later  admits  that  these  are  not  simple  reflections. 

3 “Treatise,”  Bk.  I.,  Pt.  I.,  § 1,  paragraphs  7 and  8,  end.  Hume  qualifies 
this  by  the  teaching  {ibid.,  paragraph  4)  that  only  simple  impressions  and 
ideas,  not  complex  ones,  resemble  each  other. 


152  Pluralistic  Phenomenalistic  Idealism 

It  must  be  noted  finally  that  Hume  often  supplements  his 
description  of  impressions  as  more  vivid  than  ideas  by  credit- 
ing them  (4)  with  still  another  character:  their  correspond- 
ence with  external  objects  independent  of  consciousness. 
This  distinction  is  suggested  in  the  following  passages: 
“The  simple  impressions,”  Hume  says,  “always  take  the 
precedence  of  their  correspondent  ideas.  ...  To  give  a 
child  an  idea  of  scarlet  or  orange,  of  sweet  or  bitter,  / 
present  the  objects , or  in  other  words,  convey  to  him  these 
impressions.”  1 This  alleged  character  of  the  impressions 
need  not,  however,  be  considered,  spite  of  the  fact  that  it 
lends  a certain  plausibility  to  Hume’s  teaching.  For  Hume 
later  denies  the  very  existence  of  these  ‘external  objects’ 
and  has,  therefore,  no  right  to  distinguish  impression  from 
idea  on  the  ground  that  the  impression  corresponds  to  an 
object. 

It  is  evident  that  the  account  just  given  corresponds  roughly 
to  an  ordinary  psychological  distinction  between  ‘presenta- 
tions’ and  ‘representations.’2  But  we  are  mainly  concerned 
with  the  philosophical  use  which  Hume  makes  of  the  doctrine 
thus  outlined.  It  is  the  following:  We  know  the  real,  he 
teaches,  only  through  impressions  or  ideas.  Indeed,  since 
ideas  imply  preceding  impressions,  to  know  is  to  have  impres- 
sions. But  impressions  are  either  sensations  or  affections, 
therefore  we  know  only  what  we  ‘sense’  or  what  we  ‘feel.’ 3 

Evidently  the  validity  of  this  important  teaching  depends 
not  only  on  the  accuracy  of  Hume’s  enumeration  of  impres- 

1 “Treatise,”  ibid.,  paragraph  8.  (Italics mine.)  Cf.  “Inquiry,”  § II.,  para- 
graph 7 : “ If  it  happen  from  a defect  of  the  organ  that  a man  is  not  susceptible 
of  any  species  of  sensation,  we  always  find  that  he  is  as  little  susceptible  of 
the  correspondent  ideas.  . . . The  case  is  the  same  if  the  object,  proper  for 
exciting  any  sensation,  has  never  been  applied  to  the  organ.”  (Italics  mine.) 

2 It  is,  to  be  sure,  admitted  even  by  Hume  that  his  first  and  fundamental 
difference  between  impressions  (as  lively)  and  ideas  (as  faint)  does  not  hold 
invariably.  (“Treatise,”  loc.  cit.,  end  of  paragraph  1.) 

3 Cf.  “Treatise,”  Bk.  I.,  Pt.  II.,  § 6;  Pt.  II.,  §§  5 and  6;  Pt.  IV.,  §§  2 
and  6;  and  infra,  pp.  167  and  1802,  for  Hume’s  specific  applications  of  this 
doctrine. 


The  System  of  Hume  153 

sions  but  on  the  truth  of  his  teaching  that  ideas,  the  faint  and 
later  appearing  perceptions  of  the  mind,  are  mere  copies  of 
these  impressions.  Now  Hume  may  well  be  right  in  the  belief 
that  our  vivid  and  our  primitive  experiences  consist  exclusively 
of  sensations  and  affections  (impressions),  but  he  is  clearly 
wrong  in  the  opinion  that  we  have  no  experiences  excepting 
sensations  and  affections  and  their  copies.  There  is  no  guide 
save  that  of  our  own  introspection  in  the  enumeration  of  our 
different  kinds  of  consciousness,  and  Hume’s  own  introspec- 
tion elsewhere  testifies  that  he  has  distinct  experiences  which 
are  neither  sensational  nor  affective.  Thus,  he  admits  our 
consciousness  of  causality,  identity,  and  succession ; yet 
these  are  neither  colors  nor  sounds  nor  pleasures  nor  uneasi- 
nesses. He  is  accordingly  in  face  of  the  following  dilemma : 
he  has  declared  that  every  experience  is  impression  or  copy- 
of-impression,  yet  he  has  admitted  the  occurrence  of  experi- 
ences not  included  in  his  list  of  impressions.  Evidently  he 
must  either  increase  the  number  of  impressions,  or  he  must 
admit  the  existence  of  ideas  which  are  not  mere  copies  of 
sensation  or  affection. 

b.  The  doctrine  0}  causality 

From  the  time  of  Aristotle,  until  Hume  wrote  his  “Treatise,” 
no  philosopher  had  offered  a close  analysis  of  the  conception 
of  causality.  Descartes  and  Leibniz,  it  will  be  remembered, 
had  without  discussion  assumed  the  necessity  of  certain  causal 
principles ; 1 Berkeley  had  distinguished  between  causality,  the 
creativeness  of  spirit,  and  the  regular  sequence  of  idea  on 
idea  which,  incorrectly  as  it  seemed  to  him,  is  called  causality. 
But  it  was  left  to  Hume,  among  modern  philosophers,  first 
to  study  carefully  the  causal  relation;  and  his  doctrine 
forms  the  most  permanently  valuable  part  of  his  philosophy. 
Hume  is  chiefly  interested  in  the  “ relation  of  cause  and  effect ” 


1 Cf.  pp.  48  seq.,  103  seq. 


154  Pluralistic  P henomenalistic  Idealism 

because  “by  means  of  that  relation”  we  are  said  to  “go 
beyond  the  evidence  of  our  memory  and  senses.” 1 By 
reasoning  that  ideas  or  objects  or  events  must  have  a suitable 
cause,  all  Hume’s  predecessors  argue  for  God’s  exist- 
ence, and  all  save  Leibniz  and  Berkeley  infer  the  existence 
of  matter  independent  of  mind.  And  everyday  people  as 
well  as  philosophers  reach  conclusions  about  past  and  future 
events  by  assuming  that  events  must  have  effects  and  causes. 
As  Hume  says,  “it  is  constantly  supposed  that  there  is  a con- 
nection between  the  present  fact  and  that  which  is  inferred 
from  it.”  This  connection,  the  causal  relation,  Hume 
proceeds  to  analyze  in  detail. 

According  to  the  everyday  view,  there  is  a power  in  a 
moving  billiard  ball  which  strikes  a second  resting  ball;  this 
power  forces  the  second  ball  to  move ; the  motion  of  the  second 
ball  follows  necessarily  on  that  of  the  first.  Hume’s  account 
of  this  occurrence  is  the  following : There  is  no  power  in  the 
moving  ball  and  no  necessity  in  the  movement  of  the  second 
ball.  The  movement  of  the  second  ball  has,  however,  as  a 
matter  of  fact,  followed  repeatedly  on  that  of  the  first;  and 
our  minds,  therefore,  anticipate  the  movement  of  the  second 
ball,  on  seeing  the  movement  of  the  first ; that  is,  our  minds 
infer  that  the  movement  of  the  second  will  follow  that  of  the 
first.  In  precise  terms,  according  to  the  everyday  view,  the 
causal  relation  has  two  important  characters:  it  is  (i)  a 
necessary  connection  between  antecedent  cause  and  follow- 
ing effect,  such  that  (2)  the  cause  is  a power  or  force.  Hume, 
on  the  other  hand,  defines  causality  as  (1)  a customary  con- 
junction of  events, involving  (2)  a ‘determination  of  the  mind.’2 3 
By  the  first  of  these  teachings,  he  denies  the  necessity  ordi- 
narily attributed  to  the  causal  relation,  and  by  the  second,  he 
interprets  power  as  a purely  mental  character. 

1 “Inquiry,”  § IV.,  Pt.  I.,  paragraph  4;  cf.  “Treatise,”  Bk.  I.,  Pt.  III., 

§ 6,  paragraph  7. 

3 “Treatise,”  Bk.  I.,  Pt.  III.,  especially  §§  2,  14. 


The  System  of  Hume 


155 


1.  The  conception  0}  causality  as  a customary , not  a 
necessary,  connection 


Two  kinds  of  necessity  are  involved  in  what  is  called  the 
causal  connection  of  events.  The  first  of  these  is  the  nec- 
essary or  inevitable  connection  between  cause 1 2 and  effect 
regarded  merely  as  events  in  time;  it  is  formulated  in  the 
proposition,  “Every  present  has  a past  and  has  a future.” 
This  sort  of  necessary  connection  is  common  to  succession 
and  to  causality.  The  second  sort  of  necessity  is  expressed 
in  the  proposition,  “ A given  event,  b,  is  so  connected  with 
a preceding  event,  a,  that  no  other  event  could  have  occurred 
in  the  place  of  b.”  2 Hume’s  main  concern  is  with  the  strictly 
causad  principle : the  effect  could  not  have  been  other  than 
it  is.  He  denies'  the  truth  of  this  principle,  arguing  on 
several  grounds  that  the  causal  relation  is  not  necessary. 

The  first  argument  by  which  Hume  seeks  to  show  that 
the  causal  relation  is  not  necessary  is  the  fact  that,  given  any 
causal  succession,  one  may  always  conceive  of  it  as  different ; 
that  is,  one  may  imagine  the  cause  to  have  had  a different 
effect,  or  the  effect  to  have  had  a different  cause.  Only  by 
repeated  experience,  Hume  points  out,  is  it  possible  to  dis- 
cover what  we  call  the  real  cause  or  the  real  effect.  But  a nec- 
essary relation,  he  urges,  is  one  whose  negation  is  inconceivable 
and  which  is  known  to  us  at  once  and  without  repeated 

1 It  should  be  noted  that  the  term  ‘ cause  ’ is  not  by  all  philosophers  applied 
exclusively  to  an  event.  By  ‘cause’  has  been  meant,  also,  non-temporal 
‘ground’  or  ‘explanation,’  and  many  philosophers  have  confused  the  two 
meanings  (cf.  supra,  Chapter  2,  pp.  51  seq.  and  Chapter  4,  pp.  103  seq.), 
or  else  have  distinguished  these  uses,  yet  retained  the  word  ‘cause’  for  them 
both  (cf.  infra,  Chapter  7,  pp.  210  seq.  and  259  seq.).  Because  other  terms 
may  be  found  to  express  ‘non-temporal  causality,’  modern  writers  tend  to 
follow  Hume  and  to  ascribe  causality  to  events  only. 

2 It  should  be  noted  that  the  causal  principle  does  not  assert  that  a 
given  event  is  uniformly  preceded  by  the  same  cause.  A given  event  may, 
on  the  contrary,  follow  from  one  of  several  causes 


156  Pluralistic  Phenomenalistic  Idealism 

experience.1  For  example,  it  is  inconceivable  that  the  relation 
between  3x2  and  3 + 3 should  be  other  than  that  of  equal- 
ity ; and  so  soon  as  I know  the  meaning  of  the  terms,  unaided 
by  repeated  experience,  I know  this  equality.  On  the  other 
hand,  I do  not  know  without  trial  that  a drop  of  acid  will  turn 
a blue  fabric  red : it  is  conceivable  that  the  acid  should  turn 
the  cloth  black  or  that  it  should  stiffen  the  fabric  instead  of 
eating  it.  The  causal  relation,  in  other  words,  is  not  neces- 
sary, whereas  the  mathematical  relation  is. 

This  teaching  is  of  such  importance  to  the  development  of 
Hume’s  system  that  it  must  be  considered  in  detail.  It  will 
be  well  to  begin  with  Hume’s  own  illustrations  of  the  doctrine, 
just  stated  and  briefly  illustrated,  that  the  opposite  of  any 
cause  or  of  any  effect  is  conceivable,  and  that  consequently 
only  repeated  experience  enables  us  to  assign  an  effect  or  a 
cause.  Hume’s  first  examples  are  from  unfamiliar  cases  of 
causality,  for,  as  he  truly  says,  our  inability  to  know  effects 
or  causes,  without  trial,  is  most  readily  admitted  “with  regard 
to  such  objects  as  we  remember  to  have  once  been  altogether 
unknown  to  us.  . . . Present  two  smooth  pieces  of  marble,” 
he  continues,  “ to  a man  who  has  no  tincture  of  natural  philos- 
ophy; he  will  never  discover  that  they  will  adhere  together 
in  such  a manner  as  to  require  great  force  to  separate  them  in 
a direct  line,  while  they  make  so  small  a resistance  to  a lateral 
pressure.”  2 It  is  equally  true,  though  we  seldom  realize  it, 
that  familiar  effects  and  causes  whose  opposite  now  seems 
impossible  to  us  had  to  be  learned  by  repeated  experience  of 
them.  “We  are  apt  to  imagine,”  Hume  says  a little  later,3 
“that  we  could  discover  ...  by  the  mere  operation  of  our 
reason,  without  experience,”  the  familiar  effects  of  well-known 
causes.  “We  fancy  that  were  we  brought  on  a sudden  into 

1 “Treatise,”  Bk.  I.,  Pt.  III.,  § r.  Cf.  “Inquiry,”  § VII.,  Pt.  I.,  para- 
graph 7 (Open  Court  edition,  p.  64*).  Cf.  Leibniz’s  doctrine,  summarized 
supra,  pp.  91  seq. 

2 “Inquiry,”  § IV.,  paragraph  7 (Open  Court  edition,  p.  262). 

3 Ibid.,  paragraph  8. 


The  System  of  Hume 


157 


this  world,  we  could  at  first  have  inferred  that  one  billiard 
ball  would  communicate  motion  to  another  upon  impulse ; and 
that  we  needed  not  to  have  waited  for  the  event  in  order  to 
pronounce  with  certainty  concerning  it.”  But  this  convic- 
tion of  the  necessary,  and  therefore  immediately  realized, 
connection  between  cause  and  effect  is  an  illusion.  “When 
I see  ...  a billiard  ball  moving  in  a straight  line  toward 
another;  even  suppose  motion  in  the  second  ball  should  by 
accident  be  suggested  to  me,  as  the  result  of  their  contact  01- 
impulse  ; may  I not  conceive  that  a hundred  different  events 
might  as  well  follow  from  that  cause  ? May  not  both  these 
balls  remain  at  absolute  rest  ? May  not  the  first  ball  return 
in  a straight  line  or  leap  off  from  the  second  in  any  line  or 
direction?  . . . All  our  reasonings  a priori ',”  Hume  con- 
cludes,1 “will  never  be  able  to  show  us  any  foundation  for  this 
preference.”  In  other  words,  Hume  is  sure  that  the  connec- 
tion between  a given  event  — say,  the  movement  of  a billiard 
ball  — and  the  event  which  follows  it  is  not  a necessary  con- 
nection, precisely  because  a different  succession  of  events  is 
conceivable. 

This  argument  for  the  lack  of  necessity  in  the  causal  con- 
nection is  emphasized  by  the  teaching  that  only  relations 
whose  opposite  is  inconceivable  are  necessary.  Thus,  he 
would  admit  that  there  is  a necessary  relation,  that  of  unlike- 
ness, between  white  and  black,  because  one  knows  the  like- 
ness “at  first  sight  without' any  enquiry  or  reasoning,”  and 
because  it  is  inconceivable  that  white  should  be  like  black. 
His  enumeration  of  necessary  relations  is  the  following:  rela- 
tions of  “resemblance,  contrariety,  degrees  in  quality,  and 
proportions  in  quantity  or  number.2  That  the  square  of  the 
hypothenuse,”  Hume  says,  “is  equal  to  the  squares  0}  the  two 
sides  is  a proposition  which  expresses  a relation  between  these 
figures.  . . . Propositions  of  this  kind  are  discoverable 


1 “Inquiry,”  § IV.,  paragraph  10. 

2 “Treatise,”  Bk.  I.,  Pt.  III.,  § 1,  paragraph  2.  Cf.  Pt.  II.,  § 4. 


158  Pluralistic  P ' henomenalistic  Idealism 

by  the  mere  operation  of  thought.  . . . Though  there  never 
were  a circle  or  triangle  in  nature,  the  truths  demonstrated  by 
Euclid  would  forever  retain  their  certainty  and  evidence.”  1 
So,  to  recapitulate:  Hume’s  first  argument  against  the  neces- 
sity of  the  causal  relation  is  through  the  discovery  that  one 
cannot,  without  repeated  experience,  predict  the  effect  which 
a given  event  will  have.  But  a really  necessary  connection, 
he  teaches,  is  such  that  its  opposite  is  inconceivable:  it  is, 
therefore,  immediately  known.  The  causal  relation,  accord- 
ingly, lacks  necessity,  since  its  opposite  is  conceivable  and  since 
it  is  known  only  through  accidental  and  inadequate  expe- 
rience. Causality,  in  other  words,  is  customary  conjunction, 
not  necessary  connection. 

It  will  be  well,  before  going  further,  to  attempt  an  estimate 
of  this  reiterated  argument  against  the  necessity  of  the  causal 
relation.  A careful  re-reading  of  the  text  can  hardly  fail  to 
convince  one  that  the  argument  falls  short  of  its  purposed 
result.  It  shows  that  we  gain,  through  accidental  experience, 
not  our  conviction  that  a cause  must  be  uniformly  followed 
by  a similar  effect  but  merely  our  knowledge  of  the  precise 
nature  of  that  effect.  The  argument  has  to  do,  in  other  words, 
not  with  the  necessity  of  the  occurrence  of  a uniform  effect,  but 
with  the  alleged  necessity  that  the  effect  be  of  just  such  or  such 
a nature.  (Hume  sometimes  recognizes  this  limitation  of 
the  argument,  though  he  often  loses  sight  of  it.2)  In  other 
words,  Hume  argues  (1)  that  only  through  repeated  expe- 
rience may  one  know,  for  example,  that  fire  will  be  the  result 
of  friction;  and  argues  (2)  that  because  such  experience  is 
inevitably  incomplete,  the  connection  which  it  discovers  can- 
not be  regarded  as  absolutely  necessary.  And  up  to  this 


1 “Inquiry,”  ibid .,  paragraph  1.  In  the  “Inquiry,”  Hume  teaches  that 
all  mathematical  relations  are  necessary.  In  the  “Treatise”  (Bk.  I.,  Pt.  III., 
§ 1,  paragraph  4),  he  questions  the  necessity  of  geometrical  propositions. 
(For  detailed  comparison  of  the  teachings,  on  this  point,  of  “Treatise”  and 
“Inquiry,”  cf.  Elkin’s  “Hume’s  Treatise  and  Inquiry,”  pp.  hi  seq.) 

2 Cf.  “Treatise,”  Bk.  I.,  Pt.  III.,  § 2. 


The  System  of  Hume 


159 


point  Hume  is  unquestionably  correct  both  in  his  premises 
and  in  his  conclusion.  We  do  gain  our  knowledge  of  the 
exact  nature  of  the  effects  of  given  causes  by  repeated  experi- 
ence ; and  repeated  observation,  varying  with  individual  and 
with  circumstances,  cannot  guarantee  the  universality  and 
the  necessity  of  the  causal  connection.  Hume  may  be  said, 
then,  to  have  proved  that  we  have  only  practical  persuasion, 
never  absolute  certainty,  that  a given  event  has  precisely  such 
or  such  an  effect.  But  this  result  falls  far  short  of  Hume’s 
conclusion,  (3)  that  there  is  no  necessary  connection  between 
events.  Granted  that  I do  not  know  what,  precisely,  will  be 
the  effect  of  a given  event,  I may  yet  know  that  it  had  some 
cause  and  that  it  will  have  some  effect.  I may  know,  in 
other  words,  that  every  cause  has  an  effect  and  that  every 
effect  has  a cause.  This  is  the  same  as  saying  that  my  ina- 
bility to  know  with  certainty  the  precise  nature  of  cause  and 
effect  prevents  neither  the  necessary  existence  of  cause  or 
effect,  nor  my  certainty  of  that  necessary  relation. 

A second  argument  which  Hume  employs  to  refute  the 
alleged  necessity  of  the  causal  relation  is  the  following: 
Every  event,  he  says,  is  a fact  utterly  distinct  and  therefore 
separable  from  every  other;  evidently  there  is  no  necessary 
connection  between  events  thus  inherently  separable.  In  his 
own  words : “All  distinct  ideas  are  separable  from  each  other, 
and  as  the  ideas  of  cause  and  effect  are  evidently  distinct, 
’twill  be  easy  for  us  to  conceive  any  object  to  be  non-existent 
this  moment,  and  existent  the  next,  without  conjoining  to  it 
the  distinct  idea  of  a cause  or  productive  principle.”1  “The 
mind,”  he  says  elsewhere,  “can  never  possibly  find  the  effect 
in  the  supposed  cause,  by  the  most  accurate  scrutiny.  . . . 

1 “Treatise,”  Bk.  I.,  Pt.  III.,  § 3,  paragraph  3.  Cf.  Pt.  I.,  § 7,  last  two 
paragraphs,  for  a correction  of  the  doctrine  of  the  separateness  of  the  dis- 
tinguishable. Cf.  also  Pt.  IV.,  § 6 (and  injra,  p.  180),  for  a further  applica- 
tion of  the  doctrine.  Note  that  if  Hume  were  consistent  with  his  teaching 
about  the  separateness  of  ideas,  his  own  effort  to  derive  idea  from  impression 
and  his  constant  references  to  the  past  would  be  alike  illegitimate.  ‘Here  it 
is/  would  be  the  utmost  to  be  said  of  any  idea. 


160  Pluralistic  P henomeualistic  Idealism 

For  the  effect  is  totally  different  from  the  cause,  and  conse- 
quently can  never  be  discovered  in  it.  Motion  in  the  second 
billiard  ball  is  a quite  distinct  event  from  motion  in  the  first ; 
nor  is  there  anything  in  the  one  to  suggest  the  smallest  hint  of 
the  other.  ...  In  a word  . . . every  effect  is  a distinct 
event  from  its  cause.  It  could  not,  therefore,  be  discovered 
in  the  cause.”1 

This  argument  is  peculiarly  important,  for,  if  it  holds,  it 
annihilates  not  merely  the  causal  necessity  of  inevitable  ef- 
fects, but  the  temporal  necessity  as  well,  the  necessity,  in  other 
words,  of  the  connection  between  past  and  present,  present 
and  future.  Present  is  distinct  from  past  or  future  in  the 
way  in  which  cause  is  distinct  from  effect,  and  if  this  distinct- 
ness is  incompatible  with  necessary  connection , then  there  is 
neither  temporal  nor  causal  necessary  connection.  But  in 
this  conclusion  Hume  is  utterly  and  obviously  in  the  wrong. 
It  is  true  that  one  event,  the  cause,  is  distinguishable  from 
another,  the  effect;  but  to  be  distinguishable,  by  attention, 
is  different  from  being  separable.  And  it  is  a matter  of  im- 
mediate observation  that  no  effect  is  separable  from  its  cause; 
and  that  to  be  an  event  means  precisely:  to  be  a temporal 
reality  with  a past  and  a future.  Granted  that  one  thinks 
of  an  event  at  all,  one  must  think  of  it  as  having  some  ante- 
cedent and  some  consequent.  One  is  not  certain  that  this 
past  or  this  future  is  of  this  or  that  especial  nature,  but  one 
is  quite  certain  that  every  event  has  necessarily  some  past  and 
some  future.  Thus,  we  know  the  necessity  of  the  temporal 
relation  just  as  we  know  the  necessity  of  mathematical  rela- 
tions, because  the  contrary  is  inconceivable.  In  other  words, 
at  least  the  temporal  connection,  and  for  all  that  has  so  far 
appeared,  the  causal  relation,  really  are  what  Hume  calls 
relations  of  ideas,  and  are  therefore  necessary.  Hume,  in- 
deed, tacitly  admits  the  failure  of  this  argument,  for  he  makes 

1 “Inquiry,”  § IV.,  Pt.  I.,  paragraphs  9 and  n (Open  Court  edition, 
pp.  27,  28). 


The  System  of  Hume 


161 


constant  use  of  the  assumption  that  past  and  present  are 
connected  with  each  other.  He  teaches,  as  has  appeared, 
that  the  idea  is  an  effect  or  copy  of  the  antecedent  im- 
pression, and  that  cause  and  effect  are  themselves  ‘ custom- 
arily conjoined.’  Such  relations  would  be  impossible  if 
Hume  were  justified  in  the  teaching  that  distinguishable 
perceptions  are  separable. 

But  Hume  has  still  a third  argument  directed,  like  the  first, 
against  the  purely  causal  principle : No  other  than  the  ac- 
tual effect  could  possibly  have  occurred.  He  argues  that  even 
if  the  present  effect  were  necessarily  connected  with  the  past 
cause,  it  would  not  follow  that  this  cause,  if  repeated,  should 
in  turn  be  followed  by  the  same  old  effect.  For  “past  expe- 
rience,”  he  says,  “can  be  allowed  to  give  direct  and  certain 
information  of  those  precise  objects  only,  and  that  precise 
period  of  time,  which  fell  under  its  cognizance ; but  why  this 
experience  should  be  extended  to  future  times,  and  to  other 
objects  . . . this  is  the  main  question.  . . } It  is  impossible 
that  any  arguments  from  experience  can  prove  this  resem- 
blance of  the  past  to  the  future.” 1  2 Of  course  Hume  does 
not  dream  of  denying  the  practical  probability  that  recurring 
causes  should  be  followed  by  exactly  repeated  effects.  Indeed, 
he  himself  searches  for  a cause  of  ‘the  tendency  to  pass’ 
from  cause  to  effect,  after  showing  that  we  have  no  reason  for 
assigning  a necessary  cause  to  anything;3  and  he  perfectly 
realizes  that  all  scientific  theories  and  all  practical  reasonings 

1 “Inquiry,”  § IV.,  Pt.  II.,  paragraph  3,  Open  Court  edition,  pp.  32-33. 

2 Ibid.,  paragraph  8,  op.  cit.,  p.  37. 

3 This  is  often  accounted  an  inconsistency  on  the  part  of  Hume.  In  the 
opinion  of  the  writer  Hume  may,  however,  here  be  supposed  to  use  the  term 
‘cause’  in  the  sense  which  he  has  himself  given  to  the  word.  The  real  in- 
consistencies in  Hume’s  causality  doctrine  are  (1)  his  teaching  that  past, 
present,  and  future  are  independent  of  each  other;  and  (2)  his  teaching  that 
volitions  are  necessary.  He  reaches  the  conclusion  last  stated  on  the  ground 
of  the  uniformity  observed  as  well  in  the  actions  of  men  as  in  nature  changes; 
and  in  the  course  of  his  argument  he  implies  and  occasionally  asserts  the 
necessary  connection  of  cause  with  effect.  The  entire  portion  of  the  “Inquiry” 
(§  8)  in  which  he  sets  forth  this  doctrine  is,  indeed,  distinctly  inconsistent  in 

M 


1 62  P luralistic  Phenomenalistic  Idealism 

about  conduct  are  founded  on  the  expectation  of  the  uniform 
connection  of  effect  with  cause.  He  denies  not  the  practical 
certainty  but  the  philosophical  necessity  of  the  relation.  We 
cannot,  he  teaches,  know  absolutely  that  the  event  which,  in 
the  past,  had  one  effect  will,  in  the  future,  have  a precisely 
similar  effect.  For  such  an  assertion  is  based  solely  on  our 
experience  of  the  past;  and  the  past  is  no  positive  guarantee 
of  the  future. 

By  this  argument  Hume  attempts  to  disprove  causal 
necessity  by  disproving  the  absolute  uniformity  of  it.  He 
rightly  assumes  that  if  event  b inevitably  followed  on  event 
a,  then,  supposing  that  event  a should  recur,  event  b would 
necessarily  recur  also.  He  then  denies  the  necessity  of  this 
uniformity,  that  is,  the  necessity  of  the  recurrence  of  b, 
maintaining  that  if  a should  recur,  it  yet  might  conceivably 
be  followed  by  an  event  other  than  b.  He  concludes  that 
therefore  b did  not  in  the  first  place  necessarily,  that  is,  in- 
evitably, follow  upon  a.  It  is  obvious  that  this  is  a valid 
inference  from  Hume’s  premises.  But  upholders  of  causal 
necessity  (though  not  all  of  them  believe  that  events  can 
recur J)  assert,  in  opposition  to  Hume,  that  if  event  a should 
recur  then  event  b would  inevitably  follow.  In  the  opinion 
of  the  writer  of  this  book,  Hume  is  — none  the  less  — justi- 
fied in  this  teaching  that  to-day’s  event,  though  ‘ the  same 
as  ’ yesterday’s  does  not  necessarily  have  an  event  ‘ the  same 
as  ’ yesterday’s  as  its  consequent.  And  this  would  prove 
indirectly  that  some  event  other  than  b might  originally  have 
followed  on  a. 

The  results  of  this  discussion  may  be  restated  in  a slightly 
different  order.  If  this  exposition  is  accurate  and  this  criti- 
cism well  founded,  it  has  been  shown,  first,  that  Hume  un- 
successfully assails  the  necessity  of  that  connection  between 
past  and  present,  present  and  future,  which  is  involved  in  the 

aim  with  the  remainder  of  his  philosophical  writings  since  it  implies  that 
necessity  belongs  to  the  will  of  man. 

1 Cf.  H.  Rickert,  “ Der  Gegenstand  der  Erkenntniss,”  2te  Aufl.,  pp.  212  seq. 


The  System  of  Hume 


163 


very  conception  of  time;  second,  that  Hume  offers  an  un- 
successful argument  against  necessary  causal  connection 
when  he  urges  that  we  are  unable  to  predict  the  exact  nature  of 
effects;  but,  finally,  that  Hume  is  right  in  his  teaching:  it 
is  impossible  to  argue  from  particular  experiences  to  universal 
laws,  and  it  is,  so  far  as  has  yet  appeared,  unjustifiable  to  as- 
sert that  a recurring  cause  must  uniformly  be  followed  by  the 
same  effect. 

2.  The  reduction  of  causal  power  to  a ‘ determination  of  the 

mind  ’ 

The  popular  conception  of  causality  not  only  regards  it  as 
a necessary  connection  of  cause  and  effect,  but  explains  neces- 
sity as  the  power  of  the  cause  over  the  effect  — a force  ex- 
erted upon  the  effect.  Hume  denies  in  toto  the  existence  of 
power  in  external  causes,  but  he  also  identifies  power  with 
necessity,  and  attributes  power — not  at  all,  as  will  appear,  in 
the  usual  sense  of  the  term  ‘power’  but  with  a widely  altered 
meaning  1 2 — to  the  mind. 

(a)  The  denial  of  the  alleged  power  in  external  objects 

If  we  really  were  conscious,  Hume  argues,  as  we  claim  to 
be,  of  the  power  of  an  object  over  another,  we  should  have 
an  impression  of  this  power;  for  “all  our  ideas  are  nothing 
but  copies  of  our  impressions,  or,  in  other  words  ...  it  is 
impossible  for  us  to  think  of  anything  which  we  have  not 
antecedently  felt,  either  by  our  external  or  internal  senses.”  3 
But  “when  we  look  about  us  towards  external  objects  . . . 
we  are  never  able,  in  a single  instance,  to  discover  any  power. 
. . . We  only  find  that  the  one  does  actually,  in  fact,  follow 
the  other.  The  impulse  of  one  billiard  ball,”  for  example, 

1 In  this  sense,  ‘power’  is,  for  Hume,  perfectly  synonymous  with  ‘neces- 
sity.’ 

2 “Inquiry,”  § VII.,  Pt.  I.,  paragraphs  4 and  6 (Open  Court  edition, 

pp.  63s,  643).  Cf.  “Treatise,”  Bk.  I.,  Pt.  III.,  § 14. 


164  Pluralistic  P henomenalistic  Idealism 

“is  attended  with  motion  in  the  second.”  To  disprove  the 
validity  of  our  idea  of  the  ‘ power  ’ of  an  external  cause,  Hume 
therefore  simply  denies  the  possibility  of  directly  observing 
any  such  power.  Select,  he  says  in  effect,  any  instance  you 
please  of  external  ‘power,’  and  a careful  analysis  of  your 
experience  will  convince  you  that  you  observe  — see,  have 
an  impression  of  — only  the  sequence  of  the  effect  on  the 
cause;  you  may  observe  the  size  and  shape  and  direction 
and  color  of  the  ‘cause,’  but  you  will  never  observe  any  dis- 
tinct attribute  which  you  may  call  its  power.  In  this  teach- 
ing Hume  is  unquestionably  right.  We  observe,  not  power, 
but  merely  the  sequence  of  external  events  on  each  other.  We 
suppose  ourselves  to  be  directly  conscious  of  the  power  of  one 
object  over  another.  We  say  that  we  ‘see’  that  acid  has  the 
power  to  discolor  cloth,  or  that  a lighted  match  has  the  power 
to  ignite  gunpowder.  But  as  a matter  of  fact  we  do  not  see 
the  ‘power’  of  the  match  at  all.  We  see  that  one  event,  the 
lighting  of  the  match,  is  followed  by  another,  the  explosion  of 
the  powder,  but  we  do  not  perceive  any  quality  in  the  gun- 
powder — any  characteristic  beyond  its  blackness,  powdery 
texture,  and  the  like  — which  we  can  call  its  ‘power.’  Hume 
is  perfectly  justified  in  this  contention  that  we  are  not  imme- 
diately conscious  of  the  power  of  objects;  and  since  the  usual 
ground  for  asserting  the  existence  of  this  power  consists  in  the 
supposition  that  we  see  and  feel  it,  Hume  so  far  proves  his 
point.1 

There  remains,  it  is  true,  the  possibility  that  though  we  do 
not  directly  perceive  the  power  of  external  objects,  we  none  the 
less  are  justified  in  inferring  or  reasoning  that  it  exists.  This 
difficulty  is  implicitly  recognized  in  an  argument  already  intro- 


1 It  will  be  observed  that  in  this  exposition  of  Hume’s  argument  against 
the  occurrence  of  what  he  calls  the  ‘impression  of  power’  stress  has  not  fallen 
on  his  use  of  the  word  ‘impression.’  He  has  been  interpreted  as  saying, 
not  that  we  have  no  sensational  or  affective  consciousness  of  the  power  of 
external  things,  but  that  we  have  no  direct  consciousness  whatever  of  such 
power;  and  he  has  been  justified  in  this  opinion. 


The  System  of  Hume  165 

duced  by  Hume  in  a slightly  different  connection.  We  get 
the  notion  of  causality,  he  has  argued,  solely  by  observing  the 
regular  and  repeated  sequence  of  events.  “’Tis  not,”  he 
says,  “from  any  one  instance,  that  we  arrive  at  the  idea  of 
cause  and  effect,  of  a necessary  connexion  of  power.  . . . 
Did  we  never  see  any  but  particular  conjunctions  of  objects, 
entirely  different  from  each  other,  we  shou’d  never  be  able  to 
form  any  such  ideas.  But  . . . ’tis  certain,”  he  proceeds, 
“that  this  repetition  of  similar  objects  in  similar  situations 
produces  nothing  new  either  in  these  objects,  or  in  any  ex- 
ternal body.  For  ’twill  readily  be  allowed,  that  the  several 
instances  we  have  of  the  conjunction  of  resembling  causes  and 
effects  are  in  themselves  entirely  independent.”  1 Hume’s 
reasoning  may  then  be  recapitulated  as  follows : we  cannot 
infer  that  power  exists  in  an  external  cause,  for  (1)  a cause  is 
merely  a repeated  event ; and  (2)  an  event  on  its  first  occurrence 
has  no  power,  for  it  has  been  shown  that  no  power  is  directly 
observable  in  it;  and  (3)  the  mere  repetition  of  an  event  adds 
nothing  to  its  qualities.  In  the  opinion  of  the  writer  this 
denial  that  causality  is  a relation  independent  of  the  mind 
is  the  most  important  and  the  most  irrefragable  of  Hume’s 
negative  conclusions.  Some  of  the  premises  by  which  he 
reaches  it  are,  it  is  true,  of  questionable  cogency  — in  par- 
ticular, it  might  still  seem  possible,  if  one  questioned  Hume’s 
doctrine  of  impressions,  that  an  external  event  might  possess 
a power  not  directly  observed.  But  Hume  might  have  made 
his  point  by  insisting  simply  that  the  causal  relation  is  an  object 
of  consciousness,  and  that  it  cannot,  as  such,  belong  to  an 
alleged  world  of  reality  existing  independently  of  conscious- 
ness.2 Whatever  the  force  of  his  arguments,  Hume  does  not 
waver  in  his  declaration  that  “necessity  is  something  that 
exists  in  the  mind,  not  in  objects.  . . . Either,”  he  adds, 

1 “Treatise,”  Pt.  I.,  Bk.  III.,  § 14,  paragraphs  15,  18,  Green  and  Grose 
edition,  I.,  pp.  457s,  458s.  All  references  are  to  Vol.  I,  unless  otherwise 
described. 

2 Cf.  supra , Chapter  5,  on  Berkeley,  pp.  130  seq.  and  infra,  Chapter  7,  on 
Kant,  pp.  212  seq. 


1 66  Pluralistic  Phenovienalistic  Idealism 


“we  have  no  idea  of  necessity,  or  necessity  is  nothing  but  [a] 
determination  of  the  thought.”1  To  the  consideration  of  this 
positive  conception  of  causality  as  a ‘determination  of  the 
thought,’  we  must  now  turn. 

(b)  The  conception  of  power  as  a ‘ determination  0}  the 

mind  ’ 

Granting  that  there  is  no  discoverable  ‘power’  in  an 
external  object,  it  may  be  that,  as  Leibniz  and  Berkeley 
teach,  we  do  know  a power  of  the  mind.  This  is,  in  some 
sense,  Hume’s  view,  for  he  distinctly  says:  “Tho’  the  several 
resembling  instances  which  give  rise  to  the  idea  of  power  . . . 
can  never  produce  any  new  quality  in  the  object  which  can  be 
the  model  of  that  idea,  yet  the  observation  of  this  resemblance 
produces  a new  impression  in  the  mind.  . . . For  after  we 
have  observ’d  the  resemblance  in  a sufficient  number  of 
instances,  we  immediately  feel  a determination  of  the  mind 
to  pass  from  one  object  to  its  usual  attendant.  . . . This 
determination  is  the  only  effect  of  the  resemblance;  and 
therefore  must  be  the  same  with  power  or  efficacy.  . . 2 

Hume’s  conception  of  this  ‘power,’  which  he  attributes  to 
mind,  differs  utterly,  as  must  next  be  observed,  from  the  tradi- 
tional view  of  ‘power.’  For  Hume  denies  both  the  alleged 
power  of  mind  over  body  and  the  alleged  power  of  the  mind 
to  create  ideas.  These  negative  teachings  must  be  separately 
considered. 

(1)  The  common  belief  that  mind  exerts  a power  over  body 
is  based,  Hume  declares,  on  an  inaccurate  account  of  our 
introspection.  It  is  “said  that  we  are  every  moment  conscious 
of  internal  power ; while  we  feel  that  by  the  simple  command 
of  our  will  we  can  move  the  organs  of  our  body.”3  But 

1 “Treatise,”  Bk.  I.,  Pt.  III.,  § 14,  paragraph  22,  Green  and  Grose  edi- 
tion, I.,  p.  4603. 

2 “Treatise,”  ibid..,  paragraph  20,  Green  and  Grose  edition,  p.  459s. 

3 “Inquiry,”  § VII.,  Pt.  I.,  paragraph  9,  Open  Court  edition,  p.  65s  seq. 
Cl.  “Treatise,”  ibid.,  paragraph  12,  Green  and  Grose  edition,  p.  455s. 


The  System  of  Hume 


167 


Hume  answers  that  we  are  directly  conscious  simply  of  the 
sequence  of  bodily  motion  on  conscious  volition : “ The  mo- 
tion of  our  body  follows  upon  the  command  of  our  will.  Of 
this  we  are  every  moment  conscious.”  But  of  any  power  or 
energy  in  the  volition,  he  adds,  “we  are  far  from  being  im- 
mediately conscious.”  He  supports  this  counter  appeal  to 
experience  by  a more  questionable  argument.  If  we  were 
conscious,  he  urges,  of  the  mind’s  power  over  body,  we  ought 
to  be  able  to  explain  it ; and,  as  a matter  of  fact,  we  cannot 
explain  it:  there  is,  indeed,  “no  principle  in  nature  more 
mysterious  than  the  union  of  soul  with  body.”1  This  argu- 
ment is  inconclusive,  for  the  inability  to  explain  ‘how’ 
mental  power  acts  cannot  be  accepted  as  a disproof  of  the 
mere  fact  ‘that’  it  does  act.  But  the  ineffectiveness  of  the 
argument  does  not,  in  the  view  of  the  writer  of  this  book, 
prejudice  Hume’s  conclusion.  For  observation  here  sus- 
tains Hume’s  initial  assertion  that  I simply  am  not  conscious 
of  a ‘power’  in  my  mind  which  affects  my  body.  In  other 
words,  Hume  is  right  when  he  teaches  that,  in  my  conscious- 
ness of  willing  a bodily  movement,  I do  not  immediately  know 
the  mind  as  exerting  power  over  the  body.  I am  directly 
conscious  of  a sequence  of  bodily  change  upon  volition  and 
of  a determination  of  my  mind  to  pass  from  one  to  the  other ; 
but  I am  not  directly  conscious  of  my  mind  as  influencing 
the  object.2 

(2)  From  the  consideration  of  the  alleged  power  of  mind  over 
body,  Hume  turns  to  a study  of  the  problem  of  the  power  of 

1 In  more  detail,  Hume  urges  that  the  power  of  volition  over  movement  is 
distinctly  circumscribed  and  that  we  do  not  know  why  the  will  “has  ...  an 
influence  over  the  tongue  and  fingers,  not  over  the  heart  and  liver.”  Nor, 
finally,  have  we  even  an  apparently  direct  consciousness  of  a connection  be- 
tween the  will  and  ‘the  immediate  object  of  its  power,’  the  nervous  system 
(‘certain  . . . nerves  and  animal  spirits,’  to  use  Hume’s  expression). 

2 This  agreement  does  not  carry  with  it  acquiescence  with  Hume’s  posi- 
tive conception  of  the  will.  (Cf.  supra,  p.  161,  note.)  It  should  be  ob- 
served that  Hume’s  argument  leaves  open  to  those  who  do  not  accept  his 
impression  test  of  knowledge  the  possibility  of  inferring,  without  directly 
experiencing,  a power  of  mind  over  body. 


1 68  Pluralistic  P henomenalistic  Idealism 


mind  over  ideas.  This  had  been  ordinarily  conceived,  as  by 
Berkeley,  as  the  mind’s  power  to  create  ideas.  Again,  Hume 
denies  the  existence  of  any  such  power.  We  are  not  conscious, 
he  insists,  of  creating  ideas;  “we  only  feel  the  event,  namely, 
the  existence  of  an  idea  consequent  to  a command  of  the  will.1 
. . . Volition,”  he  adds,  “is  surely  an  act  of  the  mind,  with 
which  we  are  sufficiently  acquainted.  Reflect  upon  it.  Con- 
sider it  on  all  sides.  Do  you  find  anything  in  it,”  he  de- 
mands, “like  this  creative  power,  by  which  it  raises  from  noth- 
ing a new  idea  . . . with  a kind  of  Fiat  . . . ?”2  In  this 
appeal  to  experience  lies  the  strength  of  Hume’s  position. 
He  has  other  inconclusive  arguments  from  the  limitation  of 
the  power  of  mind  over  ideas,  and  from  our  inability  to  explain 
this  power;  but  in  this  challenge  to  be  conscious,  if  we  can, 
of  ourselves  as  ‘creators’  of  ideas,  he  certainly  scores  a point 
against  Berkeley,3  since  we  are  rather  the  recipients  and 
possessors  than  the  creators  of  our  ideas  — even  the  most 
novel  of  them. 

In  spite  of  Hume’s  belief  that  in  our  use  of  the  expressions 
‘power’  and  ‘force,’  as  ordinarily  applied,  “we  have  really 
no  distinct  meaning  and  make  use  only  of  common  words 
without  any  clear  and  determinate  ideas,”  he  none  the  less 
insists,  as  has  been  shown,  that  we  have  an  ‘impression’  of 
mental  ‘power.’  To  make  clear  this  conception  of  Hume 
and  to  estimate  it  is  the  main  concern  of  this  section.  It  will 
be  recalled  that  Hume’s  argument  for  the  existence  of  mental 
power  or  necessity  is,  briefly,  the  following : 4 Repeated 
instances  of  a given  cause  followed  by  its  effect  do  produce 
the  ‘impression  of  power’;  but  the  repetition  can  neither 
discover  nor  produce  anything  new  in  an  external  object; 

1 “Inquiry,”  § VII.,  Pt.  I.,  ninth  paragraph  from  end,  Open  Court  edi- 
tion, p.  701. 

2 Ibid.,  p.  7 11,  sixth  paragraph  from  end. 

3 Cf.  p.  143,  above. 

4 “Treatise,”  Bk.  I.,  Pt.  III.,  § 14,  paragraphs  14  seq.,  pp.  45  72-46o4. 
The  treatment  of  this  subject  in  the  “Treatise”  is  fuller  and  more  adequate 
than  that  of  the  “Inquiry.” 


The  System  of  Hume  169 

therefore  the  power  of  which  we  have  the  impression  must 
be  mental.  This  reasoning  is  confirmed  by  the  fact  that  we 
“immediately  feel  a determination  of  the  mind  . . . to  carry 
our  thoughts  from  one  object  to  another.”  1 

In  this  ‘determination  of  the  mind,’  Hume  teaches,  ‘power’ 
consists.  It  is  evidently  then  of  importance  to  know  exactly 
what  he  means  by  the  term  ‘determination.’  We  are  tempted 
to  think  that  he  uses  it  as  we  might  use  the  words  ‘will’  and 
‘decision.’  If  this  were  true,  Hume  would  be  rightly  inter- 
preted as  upholding  what  in  the  view  of  the  writer  is  the 
correct  doctrine  of  will.  He  would  be  saying,  in  effect: 
Though  we  cannot  know  that  the  mind  affects  bodily  move- 
ments or  that  it  ‘creates’  ideas,  yet  we  do  know  that  it  is 
capable  of  an  active  and  dominating  attitude  toward  external 
things  and  toward  its  own  ideas.2  But  such  an  interpreta- 
tion is,  for  several  reasons,  impossible.  In  the  first  place, 
Hume  is  here  discussing  power  as  it  is  manifested  in  the 
consciousness  of  all  forms  of  causal  relation,  so-called  external 
as  well  as  internal  causality,  and  he  could  never  mean  that  my 
will  affirms,  for  example,  the  sequence  of  sound  on  vibration. 
In  the  second  place,  the  synonyms  used  by  Hume  for  the 
expression  ‘ determination  of  the  mind  ’ show  conclusively  that 
he  does  not  refer  to  the  will,  however  conceived.  For  in 
place  of  the  expression  ‘determination  of  the  mind’  he 
repeatedly  uses  the  terms  ‘ transition  of  the  imagination  ’ 3 
and  ‘inference.’ 4 Thus,  in  teaching  that  causality  involves 
mental  power  and  that  this  power  is  a ‘determination’  or 
‘transition’  of  the  mind,  Hume  means  simply  the  following: 
We  are  unquestionably  conscious  of  what  we  call  cause  and 
effect,  for  example,  of  the  motion  of  a ball  as  cause  of  the 


1 “Treatise,”  ibid.,  paragraph  19,  p.  459s  et  al. 

2 Cf.  the  writer’s  “ An  Introduction  to  Psychology,”  pp.  307  seq. 

3 “Inquiry,”  § VII.,  Pt.  II.,  paragraph  3 and  last  paragraph;  “Treatise,” 
ibid.,  paragraph  6 from  end,  op.  cit.,  p.  464. 

4 “Inquiry,”  ibid.,  paragraph  3;  “Treatise,”  ibid.,  paragraph  7 from 
end,  op.  cit.,  p.  463s. 


170  Pluralistic  Phenomenalistic  Idealism 

motion  in  another  ball.  This  consciousness  first  of  moving 
ball  a and  then  of  moving  ball  b is  a transition  of  the  mind, 
and  my  consciousness  of  my  mind  as  moving  from  one  to  the 
other  is  an  impression  of  power.  This  is  the  sum  and  sub- 
stance of  the  mental  ‘power’  involved  in  causality,  as  it  is 
expressly  defined  by  Hume.  It  is  evident  that  such  a defini- 
tion of  power  does  not  conform  to  the  ordinary  usage  of  the 
term.  But  it  is  equally  evident  that  a mental  transition, 
under  whatever  name,  is  involved  in  tracing  cause  and  effect. 
This  is  the  important  truth  of  Hume’s  teaching,  later  strongly 
emphasized  and  amplified  by  Kant.  The  significant  defect 
of  the  teaching  is  its  failure  to  distinguish  the  mental  transition 
in  the  causal  relation  from  that  which  is  involved  in  every 
relation.1  There  may  be,  for  example,  as  much  mental  transi- 
tion in  realizing  that  the  uprising  in  Russia  is  like  the  French 
Revolution  as  in  recognizing  that  a bell  stroke  is  the  cause  of 
a sound.  It  follows  that  though  Hume’s  teaching,  that 
mental  transition  is  involved  in  causality,  is  correct,  it  is  also 
inadequate,  for  it  does  not  suffice  to  distinguish  causality 
from  other  relations. 

A brief  restatement  of  Hume’s  doctrine  of  causality  with 
the  more  important  of  our  comments  on  it  will  conclude  this 
section.  Hume  teaches  negatively  that  causality  does  not 
involve  the  necessary  connection  of  past  with  present  and  of 
present  with  future;  that  causality  does  not  involve  the 
uniform  relation  of  cause  and  effect;  and  that  causality  is 
not  an  external  relation  — that  is,  a relation  existing  inde- 
pendently of  consciousness.  The  first  of  these  assertions 
Hume  cannot  make  good ; the  second  and  third,  in  the 
opinion  of  the  writer,  are  sound  doctrine,  though  Hume’s 
argument  is  at  certain  points  defective.  Positively,  Hume 
teaches  that  causality  is  a customary  conjunction  of 
events,  namely,  the  mental  habit  of  inferring  one  event 
from  another.  This  positive  teaching  is  significant  and  is 


1 Cf.  Hume’s  discussion  of  personal  identity,  infra,  pp.  1873  seq. 


The  System  of  Hume 


171 

true  as  far  as  it  goes,  but  it  is  inadequate  in  that  Hume  fails 
to  distinguish  causal  inference  from  other  forms  of  mental 
transition.  The  doctrine  is  well  summarized  in  the  following 
passage:  “We  say  that  the  vibration  of  this  string  is  the 
cause  of  this  particular  sound.  But  what  do  we  mean  by  that 
affirmation?  We  . . . mean,  that  this  vibration  is  followed 
by  this  sound,  and  that  all  similar  vibrations  have  been  followed 
by  similar  sounds:  [that  is,]  that  this  vibration  is  followed 
by  this  sound,  and  that  upon  the  appearance  of  the  one,  the 
mind  . . . forms  immediately  an  idea  of  the  other.”  1 

II.  Hume’s  Doctrine  of  External  Objects,  Indepen- 
dent of  the  Mind 

a.  The  teaching  that  external  objects  cannot  be  known  by 

the  senses 

This  discussion  of  Hume’s  basal  theories,  the  impression 
test  of  knowledge  and  the  conception  of  causality  as  a mental 
connection  of  experienced  facts,  is  an  essential  prerequisite 
to  the  study  of  his  theory  of  reality.  For  by  these  standards 
Hume  measures  all  metaphysical  conceptions.  He  admits 
the  existence  of  those  realities,  and  of  those  only,  which  meet 
his  impression  test  of  knowledge  and  which  do  not  seem  to 
him  to  invalidate  his  conception  of  causality.  Through 
these  tests,  then,  he  proceeds  to  gauge  the  reality  of  bodies,  or 
external  objects,  and  of  souls,  or  selves.  With  the  first  of 
these  topics  this  section  is  concerned. 

By  ‘body’  Hume  understands  what  we  have  expressed  by 
the  awkward  term  ‘ non-ideal  reality  ’ ; a reality  which  is,  in  the 
first  place,  ‘independent’  of  our  perceptions,  and,  in  the 
second  place,  ‘entirely  different  from  them.’2  To  describe 

1 “Inquiry,”  § VII.,  Pt.  II.,  second  paragraph  from  end,  Open  Court 
edition,  p.  801.  The  meaning  has  been  slightly  changed,  to  correspond, 
however,  with  Hume’s  own  teaching,  by  replacing  Hume’s ‘either  ...  or  ’ 
with  the  bracketed  words,  ‘that  is.’ 

2 Ibid.,  § XII.,  paragraphs  9 and  11,  Open  Court  edition,  pp.  1613,  16a2. 


172  Pluralistic  P henomenalistic  Idealism 


this  non-ideal  reality,  Hume  uses  the  expressions,  ‘matter,’ 
‘body’  or  ‘bodies,’  ‘external  objects,’  and  ‘objects.’1  The 
character  of  these  objects  on  which  Hume  lays  most  stress 
is  their  independence  of  our  perceptions.  “An  external 
universe,”  he  says,  “depends  not  on  our  perceptions,  but 
would  exist  though  we  and  every  sensible  creature  were 
absent  or  annihilated.”2 

Hume’s  arguments  to  disprove  the  existence  of  such  an  ex- 
ternal universe  closely  resemble,  as  he  does  not  fail  to  indi- 
cate, those  of  Berkeley.3  He  argues,  first,  that  external  objects 
cannot  be  known  by  the  ‘ senses  ’ — that  they  are  not,  in 
Berkeley’s  term,  perceived  directly.  In  favor  of  this  conclu- 
sion, he  urges,  first,  that  our  senses  are  known  and  admitted 
to  be  fallacious.  Of  this  ‘ imperfection  and  fallaciousness  of 
our  organs’  we  have,  he  says,  numberless  instances:  ‘the 
crooked  appearance  of  an  oar  in  water;  the  various  aspects 
of  objects  according  to  their  different  distances;  the  double 
images  which  arise  from  the  pressing  one  eye.’ 4 This  fact, 
that  some  of  the  objects  which  seem  to  us  external  are  mere 
illusions,  makes  it  impossible  to  trust  to  our  direct  sense- 
consciousness  of  externality.  Nor  may  we  (after  Descartes’s 
fashion)  “have  recourse  to  the  veracity  of  the  supreme 
Being,  in  order  to  prove  the  veracity  of  our  senses.”5 6  This, 
Hume  rightly  observes,  “is  making  a very  unexpected  cir- 
cuit. If  his  veracity,”  he  continues,  “were  at  all  concerned 
in  this  matter,  our  senses  would  be  entirely  infallible;  be- 
cause it  is  not  possible  that  he  can  ever  deceive.”  In  other 

1 Cf.  especially  “Treatise,”  Bk.  I.,  Pt.  IV.,  § 2,  and  “Inquiry,”  § XII., 
Pt.  I.  The  terms  are  enumerated  in  the  order  of  the  frequency  with  which 
Hume  uses  them,  beginning  with  that  which  Hume  least  often  employs. 

2 “Inquiry,”  § XII.,  Pt.  I.,  paragraph  7,  Open  Court  edition,  p.  1603. 
Cf.  “Treatise,”  Bk.  I.,  Pt.  IV.,  § 2,  paragraphs  3,  10,  and  passim. 

3 “Inquiry,”  ibid.,  second  paragraph  from  end,  Open  Court  edition, 

p.  164,  note. 

* Ibid.,  paragraph  6.  Cf.  “Treatise,”  Bk.  I.,  Pt.  IV.,  § 2,  thirteenth 
paragraph  from  end,  Green  and  Grose  edition,  I.,  p.  4q83. 

6 “Inquiry,”  ibid.,  paragraph  13,  Open  Court  edition,  p.  163*. 


The  System  of  Hume 


173 


words,  Descartes’s  argument  proves  too  much.  Our  senses 
certainly  do  sometimes  ‘deceive’  us,  and  it  follows  either  that 
the  veracity  of  the  supreme  Being  is  no  guarantee  against  such 
deception,  or  else  that  there  is  no  veracious,  supreme  Being. 

Besides  arguing  from  the  experienced  fallaciousness  of 
our  senses  that  we  have  no  sense  knowledge  of  objects 
independent  of  mind,  Hume  reaches  the  same  conclusion  by 
considering  the  nature  of  the  alleged  ‘external’  object  of  the 
senses.  Such  an  object,  he  observes,  is  believed  to  be  made 
up  of  primary  and  of  secondary  qualities.  But,  as  he  points 
out,  “it  is  universally  allowed  by  modern  enquirers,  that  all 
the  sensible  qualities  of  objects  such  as  hard,  soft,  hot,  cold, 
white,  black,  etc.,  are  merely  secondary,  and  exist  not  in  the 
objects  themselves,  but  are  perceptions  of  the  mind,  without 
any  external  . . . model,  which  they  represent.  If  this  be 
allowed,  with  regard  to  secondary  qualities,  it  must  also  fol- 
low, with  regard  to  the  supposed  primary  qualities  of  exten- 
sion and  solidity.”1 

Finally,  Hume,  like  Berkeley,  appeals  to  our  introspection 
to  assure  us  that  we  really  are  not  directly  conscious  of  things 
outside  us,  but  that  our  immediately  certain  consciousness  is 
of  our  own  experience.  “Nothing,”  he  says,2 *  “can  ever 
be  present  to  the  mind  but  an  image  or  perception  . . . ; 
and  no  man,  who  reflects,  ever  doubted  that  the  existences, 
which  we  consider,  when  we  say  this  house  and  that  tree  are 
nothing  but  perceptions  — in  the  mind  ...” 

b.  The  teaching  that  objects  external  to  the  mind  cannot  be 
known  by  reason 

In  addition  to  the  everyday  conviction  that  objects  external 
to  the  mind  are  known  to  sense  or  directly  perceived,  Hume 

1 “Inquiry,”  ibid.,  second  paragraph  from  end.  Cf.  “Treatise,”  Bk.  I., 
Pt.  IV.,  § 2,  paragraphs  12  seq.,  Green  and  Grose  edition,  p.  4824. 

2 “Inquiry,”  loc.  cit.,  paragraph  9.  Cf.  “Treatise,”  loc.  cit.,  paragraph  21, 

p.  4871,  et  al. 


174  Pluralistic  P henomenalistic  Idealism 

recognizes  the  ‘philosophical  hypothesis’  that  we  must  infer 
the  existence  of  objects  distinct  from  our  directly  known 
perceptions.1  The  doctrine  is  familiar  to  us  through  Berkeley’s 
arguments  against  it.  Admitting  that  the  colored,  extended 
things  which  we  directly  know  are  merely  our  own  percepts 
or  thoughts,  it  teaches  that  there  none  the  less  exist  real 
things,  very  probably  unlike  these  percepts,  and  in  any  case 
independent  of  them  and  distinct  from  them;  and  that  we 
know  the  existence  of  these  things  by  reason  or  inference. 
Hume  argues,  as  Berkeley  has  argued,  that  we  have  no  right 
to  make  this  inference,  no  basis  for  the  conclusion  that  these 
‘external’  objects  exist.  His  argument  is  worthy  of  atten- 
tion. Those  philosophers,  he  points  out,  who  teach  that 
external  objects,  realities  independent  of  consciousness,  must 
be  inferred  to  exist,  base  this  inference  on  the  fact  that  our 
impressions  (or  perceptions  of  things)  require  a cause;  and 
argue  that  ‘real,  distinct  existences’  must  cause  these  sense 
impressions.  But  Hume  believes  that  he  has  shown  that 
causality  is  not  a power  inherent  in  an  external  object,  that  it 
is,  on  the  contrary,  an  experienced  connection  between  suc- 
cessive facts,  — a connection  known  by  the  mind.  Now  if 
causality  be  mental,  the  facts  connected  by  causality  must  be 
mental  facts;  in  other  words,  the  causal  relation,  being 
through  and  through  mental,  cannot  extend  beyond  the  mind. 
This  argument  is  clearly  implied  in  the  following  paragraph : 
“ The  only  conclusion  we  can  draw  from  the  existence  of  one 
thing  to  that  of  another,  is  by  means  of  the  relation  of  cause 
and  effect,  which  shows  that  there  is  a connection  betwixt 
them,  and  that  the  existence  of  one  is  dependent  on  that  of 
the  other.  . . . But  as  no  beings  are  ever  present  to  the 
mind  but  perceptions ; it  follows  that  we  may  observe  a con- 
junction or  a relation  of  cause  and  effect  between  different 
perceptions,  but  can  never  observe  it  between  perceptions 
and  objects.  ’Tis  impossible,  therefore,  that  from  the 


1 “ Treatise,”  loc.  cit.,  twelfth  paragraph  from  end,  p.  498*. 


The  System  of  Htime  175 

existence  ...  of  the  former,  we  can  ever  form  any  conclu- 
sion concerning  the  existence  of  the  latter.  . . .”x 

There  is  no  escape  from  this  argument,  if  Hume’s  concep- 
tion of  causality  as  a mental  relation  be  admitted.  If  causality 
is  a purely  mental  connection,  it  surely  cannot  be  a bridge 
between  the  mental  and  the  non-mental.  The  only  reason  to 
question  Hume’s  use  of  the  argument  is  the  doubt  of  his 
having  proved  satisfactorily  this  purely  mental  nature  of 
causality.  (The  position  taken  in  this  chapter  is  that  he  might 
fully  have  proved  the  point,  but  has  actually  left  certain  parts 
of  his  argument  unguarded.) 

It  must  be  noticed,  however,  that  Hume  implies,  in  the  pas- 
sage quoted,  a more  fundamental  argument  against  the  exist- 
ence of  material  reality,  as  inferred  to  exist  — an  argument 
which  does  not  depend  on  the  validity  of  his  conception  of 
causality.  Objects  inferred  to  exist  are,  he  says,  none  the 
less  objects  of  consciousness,  objects  ‘present  to  the  mind.’ 
But  nothing  which  is  present  to  the  mind  can  possess  an 
existence  independent  of  mind.  It  is  then  a contradic- 
tion in  terms  to  teach  that  the  mind  must  infer  (what- 
ever be  the  principle  of  inference)  the  existence  of  external 
objects;  for  it  is  the  nature  of  such  objects  to  be  independent 
of  consciousness.  By  the  use  of  this  reasoning,  Hume 
advances  a far  stronger  argument  than  Berkeley’s  in  opposi- 
tion to  the  doctrine  that  matter  (reality  independent  of  mind) 
must  be  inferred  as  cause  of  perceptions.  Berkeley  has 
urged,  in  objection  to  this  view,  that  matter  is  by  common 
consent  ‘ passive  or  inert  ’ so  that  it  may  not  be  conceived  as 
cause  of  anything,  still  less  as  cause  of  active  spirit.  This 

1 “Treatise,”  Bk.  I.,  Pt.  IV.,  § 2,  eleventh  paragraph  from  end,  p.  499. 
Cf.  “Inquiry,”  ibid.,  paragraph  12,  Open  Court  edition,  p.  1621 * 3.  The 
“Treatise”  alone  discusses  this  subject  in  detail,  in  the  section  from  which 
quotation  is  made.  The  section  is  long  and  involved:  it  discusses  both  the 
continuity  and  the  independence  of  alleged  objects  external  to  the  mind ; and 
it  introduces  many  irrelevant,  though  often  significant,  considerations.  In 

“Inquiry,”  loc.  cit.,  paragraph  11  and  last  paragraph,  two  subordinate  argu- 

ments against  the  inferred-matter-conception  are  suggested. 


176  P luralistic  Phenomenalistic  Idealism 

objection,  it  was  pointed  out,1  is  ineffective  against  the  dynamic 
conception  of  matter  as  energy  or  force.  Hume’s  argument 
does  not  encounter  this  difficulty,  for  he  argues  against  the 
inferred  existence  of  material  reality  not  on  the  disputed 
ground  of  the  passivity  of  matter  but  on  the  ground  of  its 
basal  character,  namely,  its  existence  independent  of  con- 
sciousness. 

Hume’s  position,  therefore,  is  one  of  great  strength;  it  is, 
indeed,  in  the  opinion  of  the  writer  unassailable.  Descartes 
and  the  other  dualists  had  taught  that  matter,  namely,  reality 
independent  of  consciousness,  must  exist  as  cause  of  our  per- 
ceptions. In  reply  to  this  Hume  asserts,  first,  that  causality 
is  a relation  within  consciousness  and  consequently  cannot 
assure  us  of  the  reality  of  anything  outside  consciousness; 
and  second,  that,  whatever  the  basis  of  the  inference,  inferred 
objects  must  be  known  objects,  objects  present  to  the  mind, 
and  cannot  therefore  be  ‘possessed  of  independent  existence.’ 
Hume  has  thus  followed  Berkeley  in  despoiling  the  universe 
of  material  reality,  reality  independent  of  mind.  He  teaches 
that  we  neither  perceive  nor  justly  infer  the  existence  of 
‘ external  objects.’  In  their  place  we  have  simply  perceptions 
which  are  ‘present  to  the  mind.’ 

c.  The  inconsistent  assumption  that  ‘ external  objects’ 

exist 

It  is  not  possible  to  turn  from  the  contemplation  of  Hume’s 
disproof  of  the  existence  of  material  reality,  without  taking 
account  of  the  extraordinary  inconsistency  with  which  he 
none  the  less  implies  in  every  part  of  his  works  the  existence  of 
these  objects  independent  of  mind.  This  discovery  of  in- 
consistencies in  Hume’s  teaching  is  not  surprising.  Already 
it  has  been  shown  that  he  is  untrue  to  his  impression  test  of 
knowledge,  since  he  admits  the  occurrence  of  relations,2  and 


1 Cf.  supra,  p.  129. 


2 Cf.  supra,  pp.  154,  169. 


The  System  of  Hume 


1 77 


that,  while  denying  necessity  in  the  scientific  experience,  he 
affirms  it  in  the  case  of  so-called  voluntary  actions.1  No- 
where, however,  is  Hume’s  inconsistency  more  marked  in 
itself  and  more  insidious  in  its  consequences  than  at  just 
this  point.  There  can  be,  as  has  appeared,  no  remotest  doubt 
that  he  denies  the  possibility  of  either  perceiving  or  inferring 
the  existence  of  objects  other  than  perceptions.  Yet  the  dis- 
covery of  this  idealistic  doctrine  comes  as  a revelation  to  one 
who  reads  Hume  for  the  first  time.  For  throughout  “Trea- 
tise” and  “Inquiry”  alike,  Hume  has  persistently  implied 
the  ‘real’  and  ‘independent’  existence  of  objects. 

These  implications  are  especially  frequent  in  the  exposition 
of  his  two  basal  doctrines : the  impression  test  of  knowledge 
and  the  theory  of  causality.  For  example,  he  opposes  causal- 
ity to  the  mathematical  relations  on  the  ground  that  causality 
has  to  do  with  matters  of  fact  or  objects,  whereas  the  mathe- 
matical principles  are  ‘relations  of  ideas.’ 2 But  the  dis- 
tinction evidently  has  no  force  if,  as  Hume  believes,  the  ob- 
jects are  themselves  perceptions  present  to  the  mind.  Again 
he  teaches,  as  will  be  remembered,  that  impressions  are  dis- 
tinguished from  the  corresponding  ideas  mainly  on  the 
ground  that  these  impressions  are  occasioned  by  the  stimula- 
tion of  the  sense  organs  through  external  objects.3  The  dis- 
tinction certainly  loses  its  intended  significance  if  sense  organs 
and  external  objects  alike  are  themselves  perceptions  of  the 
mind.  I say,  for  example,  that  my  impression  of  red  differs 
from  my  idea  of  red,  because  a red  object  stimulated  my  retina 
when  I received  the  impression,  and  was  absent  when  I had 
the  idea.  The  implication  is  this:  because  a real  object 
occasioned  the  impression,  therefore  the  impression  differs 
from  the  idea  and  indeed  becomes  a criterion  of  reality.  But 
if,  as  Hume  teaches,  the  real  red  object  is  itself  a perception, 
it  cannot  endow  the  impression  with  any  reality  superior  to 

1 Cf.  supra,  p.  161,  note. 

2 “Inquiry,”  Pt.  IV.,  § i.  Cf.  “Treatise,”  Bk.  I.,  Pt.  III.,  § i. 

3 Cf.  supra,  p.  152.1 

N 


178  Pluralistic  P henomenalistic  Idealism 

that  of  the  idea.1  Hume,  none  the  less,  wins  the  assent  of 
many  readers  to  the  impression  test  of  knowledge,  because 
his  language  lends  itself  to  the  everyday  theory  that  im- 
pressions have  a superior  certainty  due  to  their  dependence  on 
supposedly  ‘real’  material  objects  — sense  organs  and  the 
physical  things  which  stimulate  them. 

In  many  other  passages,  more  or  less  significant  in  relation 
to  his  argument,  Hume  implies  or  asserts  that  independent 
existence  of  matter  which  he  ends  by  discrediting.  “It  is 
universally  allowed,”  he  says  (when  teaching  that  voluntary 
actions  are  necessary),2  “that  matter,  in  all  its  operations,  is 
actuated  by  a necessary  force.”  This  sentence  is  surely  mis- 
leading as  used  by  a writer  who  a little  later  argues  that  the 
“ opinion  of  external  existence  . . . [is]  contrary  to  reason.”  3 
Contradictory  statements  or  implications  of  this  sort  are  found 
cheek  by  jowl  within  a single  paragraph  or  even  sentence. 
The  paragraph,4  for  example,  quoted  above,  in  which  Hume 
asserts  that  “nothing  can  ever  be  present  to  the  mind  but  an 
image  or  perception,”  defines  perceptions  as  “copies  or  repre- 
sentations of  other  existences,  which  remain  uniform  and  in- 
dependent.” But  precisely  this  independent  existence  is 
what  Hume  later  insists  that  we  neither  perceive  nor  rightly 
infer.5 6  Of  course,  these  inconsistencies  in  no  wise  invalidate 
the  force  of  Hume’s  argument,  if  that  is  cogent,  against  the 
existence  of  realities  independent  of  the  mind  ; but  they  rightly 
shake  the  reader’s  confidence  in  Hume’s  good  faith  and  lay 
Hume  open  to  the  suspicion  of  trying  to  gain,  by  implication, 
the  benefit  of  everyday  convictions  which,  by  right  of  logic, 
would  oppose  his  doctrines. 

1 Cf.  supra,  p.  1 73s;  and  cf.  Green’s  Introduction  to  the  Green  and  Grose 
edition  of  the  “Treatise,”  Vol.  I.,  paragraphs  195-201,  303  seq. 

2 “Inquiry,”  § VIII.,  Pt.  I.,  paragraph  4,  p.  &42. 

3 Ibid..,  § XII.,  Pt.  I.,  p.  165'. 

4 Ibid.,  paragraph  9,  p.  1613.  The  definition  of  the  ‘senses’  in  this 

paragraph  is  similarly  inconsistent. 

6 Cf.  ibid.,  p.  164;  and  “Treatise,”  Bk.  I.,  Pt.  IV.,  § 2,  quoted  on 
p.  174. 


The  System  of  Hume 


179 


III.  Hume’s  Doctrine  of  Self 

Hume’s  metaphysical  doctrine  is,  up  to  this  point,  a mere 
reassertion  of  Berkeley’s  immaterialism,  an  idealistic  concep- 
tion of  the  universe.  To  Leibniz  and  to  Berkeley,  and  in- 
deed to  all  idealists  before  Hume,  this  means  simply  that  the 
universe  is  a society  of  interrelated  spirits,  or  persons.  Hume’s 
originality  consists  in  his  teaching  that  the  universe,  though 
immaterial,  is  yet  not  spiritual,  that  it  is  made  up  of  mental 
facts  or  ideas  — ‘perceptions,’  as  Hume  calls  them  — with 
no  spirits  or  selves  to  which  the  perceptions  belong.  A cer- 
tain complex,  or  group,  or  series,  of  these  ideas  may,  indeed, 
on  this  principle  be  called  a mind  or  self ; but  this  self  has 
no  identity  or  permanence  or  character  of  its  own:  it  is  a 
mere  heap  of  distinct  ideas,  each  of  which  exists  for  itself. 
Hume’s  reasons  for  denying  the  existence  of  selves,  as  dis- 
tinct from  these  mere  bundles  of  perceptions,  are  somewhat 
arbitrarily  divided  into  arguments  against  the  existence  of  any 
‘spiritual  substance’  and  arguments  against  the  existence  of 
any  self.  The  division  may  be  disregarded,  for  spiritual 
substance  really  means  nothing  if  not  ‘self.’ 1 

a.  Hume's  arguments  against  the  existence  of  a self 

By  self  is  meant,  Hume  rightly  supposes,  that  which  is  con- 
scious, which  is  fundamental  to  its  ideas  (its  perceptions,  as 
Hume  calls  them),  which  is  relatively  permanent,  or  better, 
identical,  in  the  flux  of  ideas.  Hume  argues  against  the  exist- 
ence of  a self,  so  conceived,  first  on  the  ground  that  ideas 
(perceptions)  exist  independently  and  that  there  is,  thus,  no 
need  of  a self  in  which  the  ideas  may  inhere ; second,  on  the 
ground  that  I am  not  conscious  of  myself,  whereas  if  there 

1 The  terms  have  been  differently  used,  but  never  plausibly  or  justifiably. 
Cf.  Locke’s  distinction  of  spiritual  substance,  or  soul,  from  person,  or  self. 
(“  Essay,”  Bk.  II.,  Chapter  27.) 


i8o  Pluralistic  Phenomenalistic  Idealism 

were  an  I,  I must  be  conscious  of  it.  These  considerations 
must  be  discussed  in  order. 

The  most  important  argument,  Hume  believes,  brought 
forward  to  prove  the  existence  of  a self,  is  the  following: 
since  ideas  exist,  there  exists  also  a somewhat  more  per- 
manent than  they  in  which  they  inhere  or  to  which  they  be- 
long. Now  Hume  denies  this  premise.  Our  perceptions, 
he  says,  have  no  need  of  anything  in  which  to  inhere,  because 
each  is  independent,  each  exists  for  itself,  inheres  in  itself  as 
it  were,  in  fact,  fulfils  for  itself  the  alleged  requirement  of  a 
substance.  “.  . . All  our  perceptions,”  he  says,  “are 
different  from  each  other,  and  from  everything  else  in  the 
universe;  they  are  also  distinct  and  separable,  and  may  be 
consider’d  as  separately  existent,  and  may  exist  separately, 
and  have  no  need  of  anything  else  to  support  their  existence.” 1 

But  this  argument,  if  it  is  valid,  proves  only  this : that  from 
the  existence  of  ideas  it  is  not  necessary  to  infer  the  existence 
of  any  self.  In  other  words,  it  proves  at  most  that  a self  does 
not  necessarily  exist,  and  is  far  from  proving  that  a self  does 
not  exist.  Hume’s  second  argument  is  farther  reaching.  If, 
he  teaches,  there  is  an  I fundamental  to  my  perceptions,  then 
it  is  self-conscious.  In  other  words,  I must  be  conscious  of 
myself  if  such  a self  exist.  But,  he  proceeds,  I am  not  con- 
scious of  myself,  therefore  no  self  exists.  In  two  ways  Hume 
seeks  to  make  good  the  assertion  that  I am  not  conscious  of 
myself,  (i)  He  reiterates,  in  the  first  place,  the  statement 
that  one  never  has  an  impression  of  a self.  In  Part  I of  the 
“Treatise”  this  teaching  occurs  in  its  most  general  form,  the 
assertion  that  one  never  has  an  impression  of  substance.  “I 
would  fain  ask  . . . philosophers,”  he  says,  “.  . . whether 
the  idea  of  substance  be  deriv’d  from  the  impressions  of  sensa- 
tion or  of  reflection  ? If  it  be  convey’d  to  us  by  our  senses,  I 
ask,  which  of  them;  and  after  what  manner?  If  it  be  per- 
ceiv’d by  the  eyes,  it  must  be  a color;  if  by  the  ears,  a sound ; 


1 “Treatise,”  Bk.  I.,  Pt.  IV.,  § 5,  paragraph  5.  Cf.  § 6,  paragraph  3. 


The  System  of  Hume 


181 


if  by  the  palate,  a taste:  and  so  of  the  other  senses.  But  I 
believe  none  will  assert,  that  substance  is  either  a color,  or 
sound,  or  a taste.  The  idea  of  substance  must  therefore  be 
deriv’d  from  an  impression  of  reflection,  if  it  really  exist.  But 
the  impressions  of  reflection  resolve  themselves  into  our  pas- 
sions and  emotions ; none  of  which  can  possibly  represent  a 
substance.  We  have  therefore  no  idea  of  substance,  distinct 
from  that  of  a collection  of  particular  qualities.”  1 In  Part 
IV.  of  the  “Treatise,”  Hume  urges  the  same  argument  with 
reference  no  longer  to  the  existence  of  ‘ substance  ’ in  general, 
but  to  that  of  the  spiritual  substance,  or  self.2  It  is  impos- 
sible, he  holds,  that  a self  should  exist;  for  there  never 
can  occur  an  impression  of  a self,  because  impressions 
are,  one  and  all,  fleeting  and  evanescent,  perishing  with 
the  instant  which  gives  them  birth,  whereas  a self  is  sup- 
posed to  be  identical  through  succeeding  moments.  “It 
must  be  some  one  impression,  that  gives  rise  to  every  real 
idea.  But  self  or  person  is  not  any  one  impression,  but  that 
to  which  our  several  impressions  and  ideas  are  suppos’d  to 
have  a reference.  If  any  impression  gives  rise  to  the  idea  of 
self,  that  impression  must  continue  invariably  the  same,  thro’ 
the  whole  course  of  our  lives;  since  self  is  suppos’d  to  exist 
after  that  manner.  But  there  is  no  impression  constant  and 
invariable.  Pain  and  pleasure,  grief  and  joy,  passions  and 
sensations,  succeed  each  other,  and  never  all  exist  at  the  same 
time.  It  cannot,  therefore,  be  from  any  of  these  impressions, 
or  from  any  other,  that  the  idea  of  self  is  deriv’d ; and  con- 
sequently there  is  no  such  idea.”3 

The  argument  just  outlined  presupposes  the  validity  of 
Hume’s  impression  test  of  knowledge  and  would  fall  far  short 

1 “Treatise,”  Bk.  I.,  Pt.  I.,  § 6.  It  should  be  noted  that  this  argument 
is  directed  against  the  existence  of  substance  in  general.  If  it  were  valid  at 
all,  it  would  therefore  tell  against  the  existence  of  material  substance,  as  well 
as  against  that  of  spirit. 

2 Ibid.,  Bk.  I.,  Pt.  IV.,  § 6. 

3 Ibid.,  paragraph  2. 


1 82  Pluralistic  P henomenalistic  Idealism 

of  convincing  any  one  who  denied  this  doctrine  of  impressions. 
For  the  benefit  of  such  a reader,  Hume  reenforces  his  position 
by  a direct  appeal  to  introspection.  He  begins  by  a clear 
and  forcible  statement  of  his  opponents’  teaching.  “There 
are,”  he  says,  “some  philosophers  who  imagine  we  are  every 
moment  intimately  conscious  of  what  we  call  our  self  ; that 
we  feel  its  existence  and  its  continuance  in  existence.  . . . 
The  strongest  sensation,  the  most  violent  passion,  say  they, 
instead  of  distracting  us  from  this  view,  only  fix  it  the  more 
intensely,  and  make  us  consider  their  influence  on  self.  . . . 
To  attempt  a farther  proof  of  this  were  to  weaken  its  evidence ; 
since  no  proof  can  be  deriv’d  from  any  fact,  of  which  we  are 
so  intimately  conscious;  nor  is  there  anything  of  which  we 
can  be  certain,  if  we  doubt  of  this.”  1 This  assertion  of  our 
consciousness  of  self  Hume  flatly  denies.  “Unluckily,”  he 
continues,  “all  these  positive  assertions  are  contrary  to  that 
very  experience,  which  is  pleaded  for  them,  nor  have  we  any 
idea  of  self,  after  the  manner  it  is  here  explain’d.”  In 
supposed  self-consciousness,  on  the  contrary,  one  is  really 
only  conscious  of  a particular  collection  of  impressions 
and  ideas.  “For  my  part,”  he  asserts,2  “when  I enter  most 
intimately  into  what  I call  myself,  I always  stumble  on  some 
particular  perception  or  other,  of  heat  or  cold,  light  or  shade, 
love  or  hatred,  pain  or  pleasure.  I never  can  catch  myself  at 
any  time  without  a perception.  . . . When  my  perceptions 
are  remov’d  for  any  time,  as  by  sound  sleep;  so  long  am  I 
insensible  of  myself  and  may  be  truly  said  not  to  exist.  And 
were  all  my  perceptions  remov’d  by  death,  and  cou’d  I neither 
think,  nor  feel,  nor  see,  nor  love,  nor  hate  after  the  dissolution 
of  my  body,  I should  be  entirely  annihilated.  ...  If  any 
one,  upon  serious  and  unprejudic’d  reflection,  thinks  he  has  a 
different  notion  of  himself,  I must  confess  I can  reason  no 
longer  with  him.  . . . We  are  essentially  different  in  this 
particular.  He  may,  perhaps,  perceive  something  simple 


1 “Treatise,”  Bk.  I.,  Pt.  IV.,  § 6,  paragraph  i.  2 Ibid.,  paragraph  3. 


The  System  of  Hume 


183 


and  continu’d,  which  he  calls  himself;  tho’  I am  certain 
there  is  no  such  principle  in  me.”  Hume  concludes,  accord- 
ingly, that  “setting  aside  some  metaphysicians  of  this 
kind,”  he  may  venture  “to  affirm  of  the  rest  of  mankind, 
that  they  are  nothing  but  a bundle  or  collection  of  different 
perceptions,  which  succeed  each  other  with  an  inconceivable 
rapidity,  and  areina  perpetual  flux  and  movement.” 1 “ What 

we  call  a mind,”  he  says  in  another  passage,  “is  nothing  but  a 
heap  or  collection  of  different  perceptions,  united  together 
by  certain  relations,  and  suppos’d,  tho’  falsely,  to  be  en- 
dow’d with  a perfect  simplicity  and  identity.”  2 

It  is  necessary  now  to  estimate  with  utmost  care  each  of 
these  arguments  against  the  existence  of  a self.  According 
to  the  first  of  them,  a self  need  not  be  inferred  as  substratum 
of  ideas,  since  an  idea  is  self-sufficient,  independent,  separate 
from  all  other  reality.  But  this  assertion  of  the  self-depend- 
ence, the  isolation,  of  ideas  flatly  contradicts  the  teaching 
of  psychology.  It  is  a commonplace  of  psychologists,  from 
Plato  to  St.  Augustine,  and  from  Hobbes  to  Wundt,  that 
ideas  are  associated  and  interrelated.  There  is  little  need  to 
argue  this  point,  for  Hume  himself  makes  the  admission, 
damaging  as  it  is  to  his  system.  In  the  significant  Appendix 
which  he  added  to  Volume  III.  of  the  original  edition  of  the 
“Treatise,”  there  occur  these  memorable  paragraphs:  — 

“.  . . All  perceptions  are  distinct.  They  are,  therefore, 
distinguishable,  and  separable  . . . and  may  exist  sepa- 
rately. . . . 

******* 
“But  having  thus  loosen’d  all  our  particular  perceptions, 
when  I proceed  to  explain  the  principle  of  connexion,  which 
binds  them  together,  and  makes  us  attribute  to  them  a real 
simplicity  and  identity;  I am  sensible,  that  my  account  is 
very  defective.  . . . 

“In  short  there  are  two  principles,  which  I cannot  render 

1 “Treatise,”  Bk.  I.,  Pt.  IV.,  § 6,  paragraph  4. 

2 Ibid.,  § 2,  paragraph  39,  Green  and  Grose  edition,  p.  49s2. 


184  Pluralistic  P henomenalistic  Idealism 

consistent ; nor  is  it  in  my  power  to  renounce  either  of  them, 
viz.  that  all  our  distinct  perceptions  are  distinct  existences, 
and  that  the  mind  never  perceives  any  real  connexion  among 
distinct  existences.  Did  our  perceptions  either  inhere  in 
something  simple  and  individual,  or  did  the  mind  perceive 
some  real  connexion  among  them,  there  wou’d  be  no  diffi- 
culty in  the  case.” 

It  is  evident  from  these  paragraphs  that  Hume  himself 
admits  a ‘principle  of  connexion’  binding  perceptions  to- 
gether; and  he  certainly,  therefore,  is  not  entitled  to  argue, 
from  the  independence  of  perceptions,  that  we  must  not  infer 
a self  to  exist. 

But  the  more  significant  of  Hume’s  arguments  remains  for 
consideration.  The  presupposition  of  this  second  argument 
is  unassailable.  Certainly,  as  Hume  throughout  assumes, 
if  a self  exists,  then  I am  conscious  of  it,  for  self  means 
self-conscious  being.  But  now,  according  to  Hume,  I am 
as  a fact  not  conscious  of  a self;  therefore  no  self  exists. 
Hume’s  denial  of  self-consciousness  is, thus,  the  significant  part 
of  his  argument.  As  has  appeared,  he  makes  the  denial  on  two 
grounds:  (1)  He  urges  that  I have  no  impression  of  myself 
and  that  without  impression  there  is  no  knowledge.  Against 
this  argument  it  may  be  claimed,  in  the  first  place,  that  Hume 
is  not  justified  in  denying  impressions  of  myself.  To  be  sure, 
I have  no  sense  impressions  of  myself,— in  other  words,  I do 
not  see  or  feel  or  hear  myself,  — yet  I may  be  said  to  have  an 
emotional  consciousness  of  myself ; and  emotions,  it  will  be 
remembered,  are  included  in  Hume’s  class  of  ‘impressions  of 
reflection.’  To  this  an  advocate  of  Hume  might  answer: 
Hume’s  special  point  is  that  a ‘self’  is  supposed  to  have 
permanence,  and  that  there  can  be  no  impression  of  perma- 
nence. But  precisely  this  last  assertion  is  incorrect;  Hume 
could  not  make  it  save  for  the  inadequacy,  already  pointed 
out,  in  his  impression  theory  of  consciousness.  Either  we 
are  not  even  conscious  of  permanence  at  all,  do  not  know  what 
is  meant  by  the  word  (but  not  even  Hume  asserts  this);  or 


The  System  of  Hume 


185 


we  have  an  idea  of  it  without  having  an  impression  of  it  (which 
is  quite  contrary  to  Hume’s  teaching);  or  we  do  have  an 
impression  of  it.  Whichever  statement  of  the  case  be  true, 
Hume  is  clearly  wrong  when  he  teaches  that  to  know  one 
must  have  an  impression ; that  to  know  the  self  one  must  know 
it  as  permanent ; that  one  has  no  impression  of  permanence ; 
and,  therefore,  finally,  that  one  does  not  know  any  self. 

We  have  so  far  discredited  Hume’s  attempt  to  prove  from 
the  independence  of  perceptions  that  it  is  needless  to  infer 
a self  as  the  substratum  in  which  they  inhere.  We  have 
seen,  furthermore,  the  weakness  of  Hume’s  first  reason  for 
denying  the  direct  consciousness  of  self.  There  remains 
his  denial  of  self-consciousness  through  the  mere  appeal  to 
introspection.  And  with  this  we  have  reached  the  crucial 
point  of  the  discussion.  The  failure  of  the  preceding  reason- 
ing is  unimportant  if  now  Hume  can  convince  me  that  I am, 
after  all,  not  directly  conscious  of  a self  — that  I am,  in 
fact,  conscious  only  of  perceptions,  impressions  and  ideas. 
Descartes  had  reasoned : I exist,  for  to  doubt  or  to  deny  my 
existence  requires  a doubting  or  denying  I.  Hume  answers : 
Doubt  or  denial  requires  not  an  I,  but  an  idea,  not  a doubter, 
but  a doubt ; and,  as  a matter  of  experience,  I am  conscious 
not  of  the  self  or  doubter  but  of  the  idea,  the  doubt.1 

The  first  comment  to  be  made  upon  this  teaching  is  this, 
that  it  does  not  follow  from  the  premise.  As  has  appeared, 
Hume  reaches  the  conclusion  from  the  observation  that  he  is 
never  conscious  of  himself  except  as  perceiving.  But  I may 

1 The  best  of  the  contemporary  arguments,  known  to  the  writer,  against 
the  existence  of  the  self  are  those  of  G.  S.  Fullerton  (“A  System  of  Meta- 
physics,” Chap.  V.)  and  of  C.  A.  Strong  (“Why  the  Mind  has  a Body,” 
Chap.  IX.  Cf.  W.  K.  Clifford’s  “On  the  Nature  of  Things  in  Themselves,” 
in  “Essays,”  Vol.  II.,  80  fi.).  The  essential  feature  of  these  arguments  is 
the  assumption  that  the  self  is  an  illicitly  inferred  occult  being,  separate  from 
experience.  The  critics  of  the  self-doctrine  lay  stress  on  the  reality  of  per- 
cepts, thoughts,  and  feelings  and  argue  triumphantly  that  we  have  no  right 
to  infer  a self  behind  and  apart  from  experience.  It  is  evident  that  these 
arguments  may  be  disregarded  by  all  who  hold  that  the  self  is  directly  expe- 
rienced not  apart  from  consciousness  but  in  consciousness. 


1 86  Pluralistic  Phenomenalistic  Idealism 

readily  grant  that  I am  never  conscious  of  myself  except  as 
conscious  in  some  particular  way  — that  is,  as  having  a per- 
ception of  heat  or  cold,  light  or  shade,  love  or  hate,  pain  or 
pleasure  — without  thereby  denying  that  I am  at  the  same 
time  conscious  of  a self  which  perceives.  In  other  words, 
it  is  certainly  true  that  a self  without  perceptions  is  never 
experienced,  but  it  does  not  follow  that  there  is  no  self ; on 
the  other  hand,  it  well  may  be  that  the  perceptions  are  those 
of  a self. 

b.  The  inconsistent  assumption  that  a self  exists 

In  favor  of  this  view  that  in  being  conscious  of  perceptions 
one  is  also  conscious  of  a self,  it  should  now  be  observed  that 
Hume,  spite  of  his  denial  of  a self,  constantly  presupposes  its 
existence.  On  every  page  of  “Treatise”  and  of  “Inquiry” 
alike,  he  alludes  to  ‘mind  or  myself’  as  more  than  a mere 
bundle  of  perceptions,  and  attributes  to  it  characters  — in 
particular,  activity  and  continuousness  — which  cannot  pos- 
sibly belong  to  mere  perceptions.  Thus,  he  speaks  of  ‘ the 
operations  of  the  mind’  ;*  he  says,  in  another  place,  that  “im- 
agination has  the  command  over  all  its  ideas”;1 2  and  he 
teaches,  even  more  explicitly,  that  “the  mind  has  the  com- 
mand over  all  its  ideas,  and  can  separate,  unite,  mix,  and 
vary  them,  as  it  pleases.”3  Hume’s  assertions  of  the  relative 
permanence,  or  continuity,  of  the  mind  are  equally  unambig- 
uous. “The  mind  . . . naturally  continues,”  he  says.4 
“The  imagination,”  he  has  observed,  just  previously, 
“when  set  into  any  train  of  thinking,  is  apt  to  continue,  even 
when  its  object  fails  it,  and  like  a galley  put  in  motion  by 

1 “Treatise,”  Bk.  I.,  Pt.  III.,  § 8,  paragraph  2.  Cf.  “Inquiry,” 
§ V.,  Pt.  I.,  second  paragraph  from  end,  et  al. 

2 “Treatise,”  Bk.  I.,  Pt.  III.,  § 7,  second  paragraph  from  end. 

3 Appendix  to  Vol.  III.  (original  edition)  of  the  “Treatise”;  Green  and 
Grose  edition,  p.  555s. 

* Ibid.,  Bk.  I.,  Pt.  IV.,  § 2,  paragraph  22,  Green  and  Grose  edition, 
p.  488 


The  System  of  Hume 


187 


the  oars,  carries  on  its  course  without  any  new  impulse.” 
But  a mere  bundle  of  evanescent  perceptions  could  neither 
“separate,  unite,  and  mix  ideas,”  nor  yet  continue  in  a 
train  of  thinking.  This  inconsistency  is  made  especially  evi- 
dent by  the  effort  to  replace  Hume’s  personal  pronouns,  in  his 
very  argument  against  the  self,  by  some  form  of  his  exacter 
definition  of  self.  The  passage  quoted  on  page  182  would 
read,  thus  translated,  “.  . . when  a bundle  of  perceptions 
enters  most  intimately  into  what  it  calls  this  bundle  of  per- 
ceptions it  always  stumbles  on  some  particular  perception 
or  other  of  heat  or  cold.  ...”  Thus  expressed,  without 
inconsistency  with  Hume’s  doctrine,  the  passage  loses  all 
that  persuasiveness  which  it  actually  possesses  because  of  its 
virtual  implication  of  that  self  which  it  ostensibly  denies. 

These  implications,  it  must  be  observed,  of  the  existence 
of  minds  or  selves,  underlying  the  succession  of  ideas,  are  not 
mere  unessential  lapses  from  Hume’s  central  teaching.  On 
the  contrary,  this  conception  of  a self  is  fundamental  to  no 
fewer  than  four  of  Hume’s  explicit  doctrines  or  arguments. 
The  first  of  these  is  his  conception  of  causality.1  It  has  al- 
ready been  shown  that  he  defines  causality  as  ‘transition’  and 
‘inference’  of  the  mind.  But  the  occurrence  of  a transition 
implies  the  existence  of  a permanent  being  within  which  the 
transition  occurs ; fleeting  perceptions  can  replace  or  succeed 
each  other,  but  there  can  be  no  transition  in  them.2 

A second  teaching  of  Hume  which  is  based  on  the  assump- 
tion of  the  very  self  which  he  denies  is  his  doctrine  of  personal 
identity,  that  is,  his  method  of  accounting  for  what  he  terms 
the  false  supposition  of  personal  identity.  For,  though  Hume 
argues  against  the  fact  of  personal  identity,  he  none  the  less 
has  to  admit  our  ‘great  . . . propension  ...  to  suppose 
ourselves  possesst  ’ 3 of  it.  He  goes  on  to  explain  the  alleged 
consciousness  of  personal  identity  as  the  easy  ‘transition  of 

1 Cf.  supra,  p.  166  seq.  2 Cf.  Kant’s  teaching,  infra,  p.  227  seq. 

3 “Treatise,”  Bk.  I.,  Pt.  IV.,  § 6,  paragraph  5. 


1 88  Pluralistic  P henomenalistic  Idealism 

the  mind  from  one  object  to  another,  the  smooth  and  unin- 
terrupted progress  of  the  thought  along  a train  of  connected 
ideas.’1  But  this  ‘transition  of  the  mind’  involves,  as  has 
just  appeared,  a continuous  mind,  a self  distinct  from  series 
of  resembling  and  connected  ideas.  So,  Hume  actually 
opposes  what  he  calls  the  false  conception  of  personal  identity 
by  an  explanation  which  assumes  the  existence  of  what  is 
virtually  the  same  — a continuous  self. 

The  remaining  doctrines  which  require  the  assumption  of 
a self  fundamental  to  ideas  belong  to  Hume’s  psychological 
and  ethical  teaching,  not  to  the  metaphysical  system  which, 
in  this  chapter,  is  mainly  considered.  One  important  form 
of  his  doctrine  of  the  passions  — that  is  to  say,  his  psychology 
of  the  emotions  — is  based  upon  the  doctrine  of  a self  in  social 
relation  with  other  selves.  Not  the  impression  or  idea,  but 
the  self,  is  — Hume  teaches  — the  unit  of  the  affective  con- 
sciousness.2 Thus,  pride  is  defined 3 as  “ a certain  satisfaction 
in  ourselves”;  love  or  friendship  is  said  to  be4  “a  complacency 
in  another” ; “ self  ” is  described 5 as  “ ever  intimately  present 
to  us.”  In  his  moral  philosophy,  finally,  Hume  assumes 
explicitly  the  existence  of  selves  in  social  relations.  ‘Good’ 
and  ‘bad’  resolve  themselves,  for  him,  into  ‘useful’  and 
‘harmful,’  or  ‘pleasant’  and  ‘painful’;  but  pleasure  and 
pain  arise,  he  teaches,  through  sympathy  with  others  as  well 
as  through  personal  experience;8  the  utility  which  is  object  of 
virtue  is  that  of  society  no  less  than  that  of  the  individual ; 7 

1 “Treatise,”  Bk.  I.,  Pt.  IV.,  § 6,  paragraphs  6,  16,  Green  and  Grose 
edition,  pp.  535s,  5411. 

2 This  is  perfectly  evident  in  the  “Dissertation  on  the  Passions.”  Book 
II.  of  the  “Treatise,”  on  the  other  hand,  attempts  in  many  passages  to  re- 
duce emotions  to  ideas  of  pleasure  and  pain;  but  its  classification  of  emotions 
and  its  significant  discussions  are  based  throughout  on  the  conception  of  emo- 
tions as  personal  relations. 

3 “Dissertation,”  § II.  Cf.  “Treatise,”  Bk.  II.,  Pt.  I.,  § 2,  Green 
and  Grose  edition,  Vol.  II.,  p.  77  et  al. 

4 “Dissertation,”  § II.;  “Treatise,”  Bk.  II.,  Pt.  II.,  § x. 

5 “Dissertation,”  § III.,  2.  Cf.  “Treatise,”  Bk.  II.,  Pt.  I.,  § 2. 

6 “Treatise,”  Bk.  III.,  Pt.  II.,  § 2.  Cf.  “Principles  of  Morals.” 

7 “Treatise,”  Bk.  II.,  Pt.  III.,  § 61;  “Principles,”  § V.,  Pt.  I. 


The  System  of  Hume 


189 


indeed,  the  very  “notion  of  morals  implies,”  Hume  says, 
“some  sentiment  common  to  all  mankind  . . . the  senti- 
ment of  humanity.”1  But  sympathy  and  society  and  human- 
ity imply  inevitably  actual  selves,  distinct  though  inseparable 
from  their  ideas,  and  in  vital  relation  with  each  other. 

After  the  outline  and  the  estimate  of  Hume’s  doctrine  of  the 
self,  it  is  necessary  at  the  end  to  review  the  bearing  of  the 
doctrine  on  the  question  fundamental  to  all  philosophy:  is 
there  a self  which  underlies  evanescent  psychic  phenomena  ? 
Hume’s  arguments  to  prove  the~seif  non-existent  are  funda- 
mentally two.  He  argues  that  a self  need  not  exist,  on  the 
ground  that  our  perceptions,  independently  existing,  have  no 
need  of  a subject  in  which  to  inhere ; but  he  fails  to  prove 
even  to  his  own  satisfaction  that  perceptions  do  exist  indepen- 
dently. Then  he  argues  that  a self  does  not  exist,  on  the 
ground  that  our  alleged  self-consciousness  is,  after  all,  a mere 
consciousness  of  perceptions;  but  his  very  argument  refutes 
itself  and  implies  the  truth  that  a consciousness  of  different 
perceptions  is  also,  inevitably,  a consciousness  of  a perceiving 
self.  It  is  thus  evident  that  Hume’s  arguments  are  incapable 
of  disproving  the  existence  of  a self,  and  it  is  fair  to  add  that 
no  essentially  new  arguments  have  been  advanced  since  the 
“Treatise”  was  published.  The  case  for  the  self  is  im- 
measurably strengthened,  also,  by  the  discovery  that  Hume’s 
own  philosophy,  from  start  to  finish,  implies  the  existence 
of  a self.  Against  the  force  of  these  considerations,  it  may, 
however,  be  objected  that  Hume’s  inconsistency  is  not  ipso 
jacto  an  argument  for  the  existence  of  a self ; and  that  the 
disproof  of  Hume’s  arguments  leaves  undisturbed  the  proofs 
which  future  philosophers  may  conceivably  bring  forward. 
This  abstract  possibility  is  not  to  be  denied,  but  — in  the 
view  of  the  writer  — does  not  affect  one’s  conviction  of  an 
existing  self,  a unique  and  identical  reality  which  underlies 
and  unifies  distinct  perceptions.  For  this  conviction  is  not, 


1 “Principles  of  Morals,”  § IX.,  Pt.  I.,  paragraph  5. 


190  Pluralistic  P henomenalistic  Idealism 

primarily,  an  argued  conclusion ; it  is  a direct  and  therefore 
an  unproved  certainty  contained  in  every  conscious  experi- 
ence. Of  course  this  initially  immediate  assurance  is  later 
reflected  on;  and  it  is  immensely  strengthened  by  the  study 
of  Hume  and  the  other  philosophers  who  refuse  to  recog- 
nize a self.  For  such  a study  shows  that  the  arguments  are 
invalid  which  are  urged  against  the  existence  of  a self ; and 
that  the  existence  of  a self  is  constantly  assumed  by  those 
who  deny  it.  In  the  last  resort,  however,  I can  only  assert, 
without  proving,  my  direct  consciousness  of  my  own  existence. 

IV.  Hume’s  Teaching  about  God 

It  has  already  appeared  that  Hume  argues  against  the 
existence  of  objects  independent  of  the  mind,  and  yet  that  he 
tacitly  assumes  that  ideas  correspond  to  external  objects;  that 
he  has  said  “there  is  no  self,”  and  yet  that  his  doctrines  of 
causality  and  identity  — to  name  no  others  — imply  the 
existence  of  a self.  It  will  not  be  surprising,  therefore,  to 
discover  that  Hume  everywhere  assumes  the  existence  of  a 
‘Supreme  Being,’  or  ‘Deity,’  although  it  is  evident  that  on 
Hume’s  principles  we  have  no  right  to  believe  that  there  is  a 
God.  It  is  true  that  Hume  never  argues  definitely  against  the 
existence  of  God,  for  even  the  sceptic  Philo,  in  the  “Dia- 
logues concerning  Natural  Religion,”  never  questions  ‘the 
Being  but  only  the  Nature  of  the  Deity.’ 1 But  Hume’s 
arguments  to  disprove  the  existence  of  substance,  material 
or  spiritual,  apply  as  well  to  God  as  to  finite  realities.  In 
the  first  place,  if  God  is  conceived  as  a causal  being,  totally 
distinct  from  human  experience,  then  the  argument  by  which 
Hume  proves  that  we  may  not  infer  the  existence  of  external 

1 “Dialogues  Concerning  Natural  Religion,”  Pt.  II.,  paragraph  3.  On 
this  question  of  Hume’s  philosophical  doctrine  about  God,  and  of  his  personal 
attitude  toward  religion,  cf.  especially  the  “Dialogues”;  but  see,  also,  Elkin, 
“Hume’s  Treatise  and  Inquiry,”  § 47,  pp.  266  seq.,  and  the  works  there  cited, 
including  Huxley,  “Hume”  (pp.  151  seq.),  and  Windelband,  “History  of 
Philosophy”  (Eng.  trans.,  p.  494). 


The  System  of  Hume  191 

objects  tells  equally  against  the  existence  of  God.  For 
causality  is  a relation  within  experience,  and  God  cannot, 
therefore,  be  conceived  as  infinite  cause  and  at  the  same 
time  as  existing  independently  of  experience.  If,  on  the 
other  hand,  God  be  conceived  as  infinite  spirit,  or  greater 
self,  then  Hume’s  arguments  against  the  existence  of  selves 
would  also  tell  — if  they  were  valid  arguments  — against 
God’s  existence.  We  have  questioned  their  cogency,  but 
Hume  employed  them;  and  it  follows  that  there  is  no  place 
in  his  philosophy  for  God. 

In  the  eyes  of  the  uncritical  reader,  Hume’s  conclusions 
gain  plausibility  by  his  unjustified  appropriation  of  the  God, 
the  external  objects,  and  the  finite  selves  whom  he  has  elabo- 
rately annihilated.  In  the  mind  of  the  rigidly  logical  thinker, 
on  the  other  hand,  this  procedure  awakens  a suspicion,  not 
indeed  of  Hume’s  personal  sincerity,  but  of  his  intellectual 
honesty  and  of  the  value  of  his  teaching.  No  one,  however, 
can  deny  the  significance  of  two  portions  of  Hume’s  doc- 
trine, — his  conception  of  causality,  and  his  denial  of  the 
existence  of  a self.  Important  features  of  his  causal  doc- 
trine had,  indeed,  been  suggested  by  Berkeley;1  but 
Hume  first  elaborated  and  fused  the  significant  teachings 
that  causality  is  not  an  immaterial  power ; that  it  is  rather  a 
sequence  of  events  or,  more  clearly  scrutinized,  a mental 
continuity  or  transition.  These  elements  of  his  doctrine 
have  become  inwrought  in  the  fibre  of  modem  philosophical 
thinking;  his  equally  emphasized  denial  of  the  necessity 
of  the  causal  sequence  is,  on  the  other  hand,  chiefly  impor- 
tant because  it  initiated  Kant’s  defence  of  causal  necessity.2 

Even  more  significant  among  philosophical  doctrines  is 
Hume’s  reduction  of  all  selves  to  mere  ‘bundles’  of  fleeting 
and  unconnected  ideas,  and  his  consequent  conception  of  the 
universe  as  nothing  more  than  a mass  of  loosely  connected 
perceptions,  momentary  sensations,  for  example,  of  red, 


1 “Principles,”  53,  65,  66. 


* Cf.  infra,  p.  2 1 1 seq. 


192  Phiralistic  Phenomenalistic  Idealism 

sweet,  soft,  and  fragrant,  and  equally  fleeting  emotions  of 
love  and  hate  and  avarice  and  the  like.  The  importance 
of  this  conception  is  not  due  to  its  validity ; on  the  contrary, 
as  it  has  been  the  effort  of  this  chapter  to  show,  the  doctrine 
is  argued  from  invalid  premises  and  contradicts  our  most 
immediate  certainty.  Yet  Hume  has  rendered  a service  to 
philosophy  in  setting  forth  this  theory,  erroneous  as  it  is. 
An  error  never  can  be  refuted  till  it  has  been  clearly  stated ; 
and  an  unformulated  and  unrefuted  error  may  work  incalcu- 
lable injury  from  the  shadowy  recesses  of  the  mind  which 
vaguely  holds  it.  Now  Hume’s  annihilation  of  the  self  is 
obviously  a doctrine  of  vital  consequences.  If  the  supposed 
self  is  a mere  parcel  of  perceptions,  replaced  a moment  hence 
by  another  kaleidoscopic  complex  of  sensations,  plainly  there 
is  no  ground  for  belief  in  personal  immortality,  no  philosophic 
basis  for  a conviction  of  personal  responsibility.  Precisely 
because  of  its  practical  significance,  therefore,  Hume’s  denial 
of  the  self  tends  to  incite  his  readers  to  a closer  analysis  of 
the  conception  of  a self,  a more  careful  study  of  the  relations 
of  selves.  This  effect  of  Hume’s  doctrine  the  succeeding 
chapters  will  consider. 


A CRITICISM  OF  PRECEDING 
SYSTEMS 


CHAPTER  VII 


AN  ATTACK  UPON  DUALISM  AND  PHENOMENALISM: 
THE  CRITICAL  PHILOSOPHY  OF  KANT 

“Das  Zuriickgehen  auf  Kant  [kann]  fur  uns  nur  bedeuten:  die  Fragen, 
die  er  gestellt  hat,  nicht  bloss  aufs  neue  zu  stellen,  sondem  sie  auch  weiter 
und  scharfer  zu  fassen,  die  Antworten  die  er  gegeben  hat,  aufs  neue  zu 
priifen,  zu  erganzen,  zu  berichtigen.”  — Zeller. 

Modern  thought  had  passed,  in  the  early  eighteenth 
century,  by  way  of  the  dualism  of  Descartes  and  of  Locke, 
through  two  phases  of  a qualitative  monism.  Under  the 
lead  of  Hobbes,  philosophy  had  meant  materialism ; in  the 
hands  of  Leibniz  and  Berkeley,  it  had  turned  idealistic  and 
spiritualistic.  Hume,  finally,  though  as  much  an  idealist  as 
ever  Berkeley  was,  converted  the  spiritualistic  form  of  idealism 
into  phenomenalism,  by  conceiving  of  the  universe  no  longer 
as  a world  of  spirits  but  as  a world  of  evanescent  psychic 
phenomena : impressions  and  ideas. 

Roughly  coterminous  with  Hume’s  philosophy  is  the 
system  of  the  German  philosopher,  Christian  Wolff.  Instead 
of  being  a modification  of  idealism,  Wolffian  doctrine  reverts 
in  a curious  way  to  the  old  dualistic  type.  Wolff,  to  be  sure, 
purports  to  follow  Leibniz ; but  he  ignores  all  the  significant 
teachings  of  Leibniz,  retaining  little  save  the  terminology  and 
the  inconsistencies  of  the  system.  Leibniz  teaches  that  the 
universe  is  a community  of  through  and  through  spiritual 
beings.  Wolff,  on  the  contrary,  holds  that  the  ultimate  all- 
of-reality  is  a double  universe  : a world  of  reality  independent 
of  and  distinct  from  any  and  all  consciousness,  which  would 
exist  if  there  were  no  mind  or  minds  to  know  it;  and  a 
parallel  world  of  conscious  beings.  Thus  to  every  part  of  the 
world  independent  of  consciousness,  there  corresponds,  he 

i95 


196  Attack  upon  Dualism  and  P Jienomenalism 

holds,  the  consciousness  of  just  this  particular  reality.  Wolff 
teaches,  in  other  words,  as  Descartes  has  taught  and  as 
most  people  uncritically  believe,  that  it  is  possible  to  know 
realities  which  are  yet  independent  of  the  consciousness  of 
them. 

Wolff’s  system  is,  in  the  second  place,  rationalistic.  His 
rationalism  follows,  as  must  be  admitted,  from  an  inconsistent 
teaching  of  Leibniz.  For  though  Leibniz  insists  on  the 
continuity  of  consciousness  and  teaches  that  sense  and 
thought  differ,  not  in  kind,  but  in  degree  of  consciousness, 
he  none  the  less  exalts  reason  over  sense;  and  Wolff  em- 
phasizes and  perpetuates  the  distinction,  really  subversive 
of  Leibniz’s  teaching.  Thus,  Wolff  teaches  that  there  are 
two  distinct  kinds  of  consciousness : sense  and  thought. 
Sense  he  conceives  as  the  relatively  superficial,  which  only 
confusedly  corresponds  to  the  reality  independent  of  con- 
sciousness, and  which  is  unable  to  fathom  the  deeper  realities 
of  the  universe;  thought,  on  the  other  hand,  he  believes,  may 
attain  the  knowledge  of  the  independent  realities,  or  sub- 
stances, and  of  causality,  space  and  time,  unity,  and  the  other 
rational  principles. 

It  has  been  necessary  to  outline  Wolff’s  system,  though  it  is 
unimportant  in  itself  considered,  for  the  most  influential  of 
modem  doctrines,  that  of  Immanuel  Kant,  is  directly  de- 
rived from  it.  Kant’s  philosophy,  in  its  essential  develop- 
ment, is  a progressive  exploitation  of  the  world  of  independent 
reality  in  favor  of  that  of  consciousness.  In  other  words,  he 
discovers,  point  by  point,  that  forms  of  thought  have  no  exact 
parallels  in  a world  of  reality  independent  of  them.  Corre- 
sponding with  the  sensational  consciousness,  however,  he  per- 
sistently assumes  the  existence  of  independent  realities  — of 
realities  which  are,  to  be  sure,  despoiled  of  all  describable 
characters,  a ghostlike  world  of  shadowy  objects,  whose  only 
quality  is  the  negative  one  of  being  other  than  consciousness 
and  independent  of  it.  Kant’s  relation  to  Wolff  is  thus 
comparable  with  the  relation  of  Leibniz  to  Descartes.  Yet 


The  Critical  Philosophy  of  Kant  197 

though,  like  Leibniz,  Kant  modifies  dualism  in  the  direction 
of  idealism,  unlike  Leibniz,  he  fails  to  complete  his  idealistic 
reconstruction  of  the  universe.  This  incompleteness  follows, 
doubtless,  from  Kant’s  conservatism.  He  was  himself  a 
precise  little  university  professor  of  fixed  habits,  and  his 
intellect  was  of  the  ‘slow  and  sure’  order,  which  turns  and 
twists  traditional  doctrines  in  the  effort  to  gain  all  their 
meaning,  instead  of  throwing  them  rashly  away  at  the  first 
suspicion  of  their  inadequacy.  In  Kant  this  reluctance  to 
discard  old  forms  was  combined  with  an  unsparing  criticism 
of  doctrines  which  had  not  stood  the  test  of  prolonged  scru- 
tiny. The  result  of  this  curious  combination  of  the  conserva- 
tive and  the  critical  tendencies  is  a system  marked  by  great 
internal  inconsistencies. 

Kant’s  system  must  not,  however,  be  described  solely  by 
its  affiliation  with  that  of  Wolff.  For  Kant  is  profoundly 
influenced  also  by  his  study  of  Hume.  From  Hume,  he 
derives,  in  the  first  place,  the  suggestion  for  his  criticism  of 
dualism  and  of  rationalism ; with  Hume  he  emphasizes  the 
perceptual  nature  of  space  and  time,  and  the  ideal  character 
of  the  forms  of  thought.  But  quite  as  important  as  the 
agreement  is  the  opposition  between  Kant  and  Hume. 
Kant,  imperceptibly  influenced  no  doubt  by  Diderot’s  and  by 
Rousseau’s  individualism,1  reinstates  the  spiritualistic  — or 
personalistic  — form  of  idealism.  He  replaces  Hume’s  view 
of  the  universe  as  mere  conglomerate  of  impressions  and 
ideas,  by  the  older  conception  of  the  known  universe  of 
conscious  selves.  Only,  as  has  been  pointed  out,  he 
retains  the  dualistic  doctrine  that  there  are  still  realities 
beyond  these  selves. 

But  even  those  who  believe,  with  the  writer  of  this  book, 
that  Kant’s  system  includes  no  teaching  new  to  philosophy, 
admit  its  historical  importance.  It  turned  back  rationalistic 
philosophy  in  Germany  from  the  path  of  dualism  reentered 


1 Cf.  Appendix,  pp.  505,  506. 


198  A ttack  upon  Dualism  and  Phenomenalism 

by  Wolff ; and  it  rescued  idealism  from  the  sheer  phenome- 
nalism of  Hume.  The  student  of  philosophy,  therefore, 
reads  Kant,  not  because  his  works  embody  teachings  which 
occur  nowhere  else ; on  the  other  hand,  there  is  little  which 
he  taught  that  cannot  be  discovered  better  stated  in  the  doc- 
trines of  predecessors  or  of  successors.  Nor  does  one  study 
Kant  for  the  intrinsic  worth  of  his  system  as  such ; on  the 
other  hand,  it  must  be  admitted  that  his  doctrine  is  incom- 
plete and  inconsistent,  that  the  arguments  by  which  he  reaches 
his  conclusions  are  often  invalid  and  still  more  often  unneces- 
sary. Yet  the  student  of  modem  philosophy  must  study 
Kant  because  nineteenth  century  philosophy  of  every  order 
has  been  influenced  by  Kant’s  teaching.  Post-Kantian 
idealistic  philosophy,  both  British  and  continental,  is  indeed 
born  of  the  Kantian  system ; the  blood  of  Kant  flows  in  its 
veins.  And  the  most  antagonistic  forms  of  British  thought 
have  at  least  been  influenced  by  Kant  in  the  sense  that  they 
have  been  most  vigorous  in  their  onslaughts  upon  him. 
Thus  the  systems  of  friend  and  of  foe  alike  presuppose  on 
the  student’s  part  an  acquaintance  with  Kant.1 

A.  Kant’s  Doctrine  of  the  Known  Object  (A  Refu- 
tation of  Wolff’s  Dualism  and  of  Hume’s  Phenom- 
enalism) 

The  dualistic  doctrine  of  Wolff  forms  the  starting-point 
of  Kant’s  own  thought  and,  for  many  years,  the  basis  of  his 

1 The  summary  and  estimate  of  Kant’s  system  contained  in  this  chapter 
are  based  on  the  study  mainly  of  his  “ Kritik  of  Pure  Reason,”  and  the  most 
important  of  his  ethical  works,  the  “Metaphysik  of  Morality,”  and  the 
“ Kritik  of  Practical  Reason.”  References  are  made  to  the  first  and  second 
editions  (A  and  B,  published  respectively  in  1781  and  1787)  of  the  “Kritik 
of  Pure  Reason,”  and  to  the  first  editions  of  the  other  works.  The  pages 
of  Watson’s  “Extracts  from  Kant”  (cited  as  W.)  are  also  referred  to.  Se- 
rious students  will  precede  or  accompany  the  reading  of  this  chapter  by  a 
study  of  Kant’s  text.  They  will  be  assisted  by  the  more  detailed  discussion 
of  many  sections  of  the  “ Kritik  of  Pure  Reason,”  in  the  Appendix  of  this 
book  (pp.  513  seq.).  This  chapter  departs  widely  from  Kant’s  order,  and 


The  Critical  Philosophy  of  Kant  199 


teaching  at  Konigsberg.  It  may  be  roughly  outlined  as 
follows : — 


World  of  Consciousness 


Sense 


f Sensations  of  Color 
[Sensations  of  Sound 
etc. 


Thought 


Conception  of  Substances 
Conception  of  Cause 
Conception  of  Space 
Conception  of  Time 
etc. 


World  of  Reality  Indepen- 
dent of  Consciousness 


Real  Substances 
Real  Causality 
Real  Space 
Real  Time 
etc. 


It  will  be  noticed,  from  this  scheme,  that  the  real  world  of 
Wolff  resembles  that  of  Descartes : it  contains  not  only 
substances,  but  relations : space,  time,  causality,  and  the  rest. 
These,  Wolff  teaches,  are  independent  of  consciousness  — that 
is,  they  would  remain  real  though  every  conscious  being  were 
annihilated.  They  are  known  in  a twofold  way : first,  in- 
accurately and  confusedly  by  the  senses;  and  second,  ade- 
quately and  clearly  by  thought.  Thus,  sensations  of  color, 
sound,  and  the  like  are  confused  and  inadequate  representa- 
tions of  the  world  of  independent  reality,  which  itself  has  no 
color,  sound,  or  odor.  On  the  other  hand,  the  concepts,  or 
thoughts,  of  substance,  space,  time,  and  causality,  are  correct 
representations  of  real  substance,  space,  causality,  and  so  on. 

In  opposition  to  Wolff  and  in  agreement  with  Hume,  Kant 
teaches  that  all  known  objects  are  phenomena  of  conscious- 
ness, ideas,  and  not  realities  independent  of  mind.  In  oppo- 
sition to  Hume,  on  the  other  hand,  he  teaches  that  the  known 
object  is  not  a mere  complex  of  sensations,  but  that  it  includes 
unsensational  characters,  namely,  relations.  These  two  fea- 
tures of  Kant’s  teaching  — its  divergence  from  traditional 
dualism  and  its  opposition  to  sensationalism  — will  appear 
throughout  the  summary  which  follows.  The  first  and 


lays  little  stress  or  none  on  certain  teachings  which  he  emphasizes;  but,  in 
the  opinion  of  the  writer,  it  presents  every  important  feature  of  Kant’s  doctrine. 


200  Attack  upon  Dualism  and  P henomenalism 

earliest  part  of  the  “Kritik  of  Pure  Reason,”  Kant’s  most 
important  work,  considers  the  known  object  as  spatial  and 
temporal. 

I.  Kant’s  Doctrine  of  the  Known  Object  as  Spatial 
and  Temporal  1 

a.  Kant's  teaching  in  opposition  to  Hume  that  space  and 
time  are  unsensational  and  a priori. 

Kant  sharply  distinguishes  space  and  time  from  mere 
sensations,  those  of  color,  odor,  and  the  like.  These  mere 
sensations  Kant  does  not  discuss  at  length,  but  he  attributes 
to  them,  explicitly  or  implicitly,  four  characters.  They  are 
(i)  many;  Kant  refers  to  them  as  a sense  manifold.2  They 
are  (2)  un-ordered  and  chaotic,  conglomerate  sense  material, 
without  form.3  They  are  (3)  individual;  that  is  to  say,  in 
the  same  circumstances,  one  person  has  one  sense  experience 
while  a second  person  has  quite  a different  one.4  Finally, 
(4)  the  mind  in  being  conscious  of  sensations  is  wholly  pas- 
sive ; and  sensations  are  therefore  due,  in  some  unexplained 
way,  to  the  reality  independent  of  consciousness.  This  last 
character  attributed  to  sensations  indicates,  of  course,  the 
unconquered  dualism  of  Kant.5 

Now,  Kant  denies  that  space  and  time  are  on  a par  with 
these  chaotic,  individual,  sense  qualities.  There  are,  he 
teaches,  important  differences  between  the  changing  color  of 
the  sky  and  the  spatial  relations  of  the  planets,  or  between  the 

1 Kant’s  teaching  about  space  and  time  is  contained  in  two  portions  of  the 
“Kritik  of  Pure  Reason”:  in  Pt.  I.,  the  “^Esthetic”;  and  in  the  first  and 
second  Antinomies  of  Pt.  III.,  the  “Dialectic.”  (Cf.  Appendix,  pp.  516 
seq.,  for  a more  detailed  and  technical  discussion  of  these  sections.) 

2 “Kritik  of  Pure  Reason,”  A,  p.  20  et  al;  B,  pp.  34,  68  et  al.  (The 
first  edition  of  the  “Kritik  of  Pure  Reason”  is  cited  as  A,  the  second  edition 
as  B.  The  references  of  the  early  sections  of  this  chapter  are  almost  exclu- 
sively to  this  work,  and  the  title  will,  therefore,  ordinarily  be  omitted.) 

3 A,  20  et  al;  34,  68  et  al;  W.,  22.  (The  references  are  to  pages.) 

* B,  60  et  al.  Cf.  the  discussion,  p.  231,  infra. 

5 A,  19,  68;  B,  33,  93;  W.,  47.  Cf.  infra,  p.  237. 


The  Critical  Philosophy  of  Kant  201 


increasing  heat  of  a star  and  the  times  of  its  successive  tem- 
peratures. These  differences  reduce  to  two.  Space  and 
time  are  distinguished,  Kant  teaches,  from  the  ‘ sense  mani- 
fold,’ in  that  the  mind  is  active,  not  passive,  in  the  conscious- 
ness of  them.1  Space  and  time,  he  holds,  are  further  differen- 
tiated from  sensations,  on  the  ground  that  both  are  a priori, 
whereas  sensations  are  a posteriori.  By  a priori  Kant  means 
universal  and  necessary.2  An  a priori,  that  is  necessary,  truth 
asserts  of  something  that  it  could  not  be  otherwise ; to  a 
universal  proposition  no  exception  is  possible, — it  applies, 
in  other  words,  to  every  member  of  a given  class.  In  this 
sense,  Kant  teaches,  space  and  time  are  a priori:  there  is  a 
necessary  relation  of  every  moment  to  its  past  and  to  its 
future  as  well ; and,  similarly,  spatial  quantities  — for  ex- 
ample, the  circumference  and  the  radii  of  a circle  — are 
necessarily  related.3  It  follows,  according  to  Kant,  that  space 
and  time  are  not  mere  sensations ; and  since  an  object,  what- 
ever else  it  may  be,  is  always  spatial  and  temporal,  it  follows 
also  that  the  known  object  is  no  mere  sensational  complex. 

It  should  be  added  that  Kant,  even  while  he  asserts  the 
unsensational  nature  of  space  and  time,  none  the  less  regards 
both  space  and  time  as  ‘forms  of  perception.’  But  sensation 
is  admitted  to  be  an  essential  element  of  perception,  and  the 
wholly  unsensational  is  therefore  improperly  named  percep- 
tion. It  is,  however,  easy  to  explain  Kant’s  error  in  this 
regard.  His  account  of  the  space  and  time  consciousness 
would,  indeed,  naturally  have  led  him  to  regard  each  as  a 
form,  not  of  perception,  but  of  thought  — what  he  later  calls 
a category.  But  Kant  also  believes,  for  reasons  which 

1 Cf.  note  on  p.  205,  infra. 

2 “ Kritik  of  Pure  Reason,”  Edition  B,  Introduction,  § II.,  p.  4 ; W.,  9. 
Kant’s  frequent  definition  of  ‘a  priori'  as  ‘independent  of  experience’ 
is  not  quoted  because  of  the  ambiguity  in  Kant’s  use  of  the  term 
‘experience.’ 

3 The  argument  here  summarized  is  that  of  the  so-called  Transcendental 
Deduction,  A,  25,  31,  32;  B,  40,  47,  48;  W.,  26,  30.  For  more  detailed 
exposition  of  Kant’s  doctrine  of  space  and  time,  cf.  Appendix,  pp.  516  seq. 


202  Attack  upon  Dualism  and  P henomenalism 

will  later  appear,  that  space  and  time  belong  to  conscious- 
ness and  not  to  a reality  independent  of  consciousness;  and 
he  still  believes  with  Wolff  that  if  they  were  objects  of  thought, 
they  must  be  independently  real.  In  a word,  he  has  a dilemma 
on  his  hands  : space  and  time  seem  to  him  to  be  forms  of  per- 
ception and  not  of  thought ; and  yet  they  seem  to  him  to  be 
too  fixed  and  too  certain  to  be  sensational.  He  attempts 
unsuccessfully  to  solve  the  problem  by  creating  an  imaginary 
middle  state,  between  perception  and  thought,  distinguishing 
sharply  between  sensations,  and  space  and  time  — the  neces- 
sary forms,  as  he  calls  them,  of  perception. 

b.  Kant's  teaching  in  opposition  to  Wolfj  that  space  and 
time  are  subjective 

From  the  a priority,  the  universality  and  necessity,  of  space 
and  time  Kant  argues  their  ideal  character.  He  denies,  in 
other  words,  that  they  belong  to  a world  independent  of 
consciousness.  The  self-conscious  being,  he  argues,  knows 
itself  only;  and  if  it  makes  assertions  which  have  universal 
validity,  in  other  words,  which  are  a priori,  these  assertions 
must  be  about  consciousness,  not  about  any  reality  inde- 
pendent of  consciousness  — divorced  from  it,  unknown  by 
it.  But  there  are,  Kant  teaches,  universal  space  and  time 
truths,  wherefore  space  and  time  have  to  do  with  conscious- 
ness, not  with  the  independent  reality.1  (Conversely,  it  is 
simply  because  mere  sensations  have,  in  his  opinion,  nothing 
a priori  about  them,  — because  he  cannot  make  universal 
propositions  about  the  sensible  qualities  of  things,  — that 
K#nt  supposes  sensations  to  be  due  to  an  unknown,  inde- 
pendent reality.) 

For  a second  reason  Kant  argues  that  space  and  time  are 
ideal  or  subjective.  Roughly  summarized,  his  argument  is 


1 Cf.  “ Inferences,”  A,  26  and  31 ; B,  42  and  49 ; W.,  27  and  30. 


The  Critical  Philosophy  of  Kant  203 

the  following : The  so-called  real,  or  absolute,  space  and  time, 
belonging  according  to  Wolff  to  the  world  of  independent  real- 
ity, would  be  fixed,  immutable,  and  absolute.  Space  and  time, 
on  the  other  hand,  are  full  of  paradoxes.  In  remembering, 
for  example,  one  makes  the  past  present ; and  in  drawing  lines 
through  the  base  of  a triangle  one  discovers  that,  according 
to  the  principles  of  mathematics,  as  many  lines  can  con- 
verge in  the  apex  as  can  be  drawn  through  the  base.  And 
the  greatest  of  these  paradoxes  is  the  necessity  of  conceiving 
space  and  time  both  as  complete  and  as  endless:  we  can 
always,  on  the  one  hand,  imagine  space  beyond  space;  as 
mathematicians  we  must,  indeed,  regard  space  as  infinite  : 
and  every  past  moment  must  be  conceived  to  have  its  past 
behind  it,  just  as  every  future  must  be  thought  of  with  a 
future  beyond  it.  On  the  other  hand,  space  and  time,  con- 
ceived as  absolute,  must  be  complete  and  fixed  and  immuta- 
ble. Now  such  contradictory  assertions  could  not  be  made, 
Kant  holds,  about  space  and  time  if  they  were  realities  inde- 
pendent of  consciousness;  such  paradoxes  would,  indeed,  be 
impossible  with  reference  to  a space  and  a time  which  are 
unaffected  by  our  thoughts  about  them.1  On  the  other 
hand,  consciousness  is  noted  for  its  contradictions  and  its 
paradoxes ; and,  thus,  all  the  contradictions  involved  in  space 
and  time  are  accounted  for  by  regarding  both  as  mere  forms 
of  consciousness,  ways  in  which  we  are  conscious.  Kant 
concludes  that  space  and  time  behave  like  conscious  experi- 
ences, not  like  fixed  realities,  and  that  they  are,  in  this  sense, 
subjective.  “The  world,”  he  says  (meaning  not  the  uni- 
verse independent  of  consciousness  but  the  world  of  concrete, 
extended  things  and  successive  events)  — “ the  world  does 
not  exist  in  itself  independently  of  the  series  of  my  ideas}’ 2 
“ Space,”  he  says,  elsewhere,  “is  nothing  except  the  form  of  all 

1 Newton’s  definition  of  absolute  space  is  the  following  (“  Principles,” 
Bk.  I.,  Definition  VIII.,  Scholium):  “Spatium  Absolutum,  natura  sua  sine 
relatione  ad  externum  quodvis,  semper  manet  similare  et  immobile.” 

2 A,  505;  B,  533;  W.,  171. 


204  Attack  upon  Dualism  and  Phenomenalism 

phenomena  of  outer  sense.”1  This  ideality  he  adds,  is  no 
bar  to  the  reality  of  space  and  time,  for  both  spatial  objects 
and  temporal  events  have  ‘empirical  reality’2  and  are 
‘sufficiently  distinct’  from  dream  realities. 

It  is  unnecessary  to  discuss  at  length  Kant’s  arguments  for 
the  subjectivity  of  space  and  time,  since  Leibniz,  Berkeley,  and 
Hume  had  gone  so  much  farther  by  their  demonstration  that 
all  characters  of  the  known  object  — sensations  along  with 
space  and  time — are  ideal.  The  importance  of  Kant’s  teach- 
ing is  in  its  historical  relation  to  the  revived  dualism  of  his 
immediate  predecessor,  Wolff.  Kant  deprives  the  supposed 
world  of  non -conscious  reality  of  that  character,  spatialness, 
with  which  Descartes  and  Locke  had  endowed  it,  of  which 
Leibniz  and  Berkeley  had  robbed  it,  with  which  Wolff  has 
again  enriched  it.  Kant’s  other  teaching  about  the  known 
object  — that  certain  of  its  characters  are  a priori,  or  uni- 
versal— has  a less  important  bearing  on  the  main  problem  of 
metaphysics,  the  nature  of  the  all-of-reality ; but  is  of  cardinal 
importance  to  Kant’s  method  of  attack  on  the  metaphysical 
problem.  This  will  appear  more  clearly  in  the  next  division 
of  this  chapter. 

II.  Kant’s  Doctrine  of  the  Categories  3 (the  Rela- 
tions of  Known  Objects) 

a.  Kant's  teaching,  in  opposition  to  Hume,  that  the  known 
object  includes  categories,  necessary  relations 

Hume  has  insisted  that  there  is  nothing  in  an  object  save 
only  that  which  is  perceived,  remembered,  or  imagined;  in 

1 A,  26;  B,  42;  W.,  27.  The  argument  here  outlined,  for  the  sub- 
jectivity of  space  and  time,  is  found  in  the  first  and  second  Antinomies 
(summarized,  Appendix,  pp.  521  scq.).  The  first  set  of  illustrations  in  the 
text  are  not  those  of  Kant. 

2 A,  28,  491;  B,  44,  520;  W.,  29.  This  is  substantially  Berkeley’s  teach- 
ing, though  Kant  never  recognizes  the  affiliation. 

3 This  teaching  is  contained  in  the  “ Kritik  of  Pure  Reason,”  in  two  por- 
tions of  Pt.  II.,  the  “Analytic”:  first,  in  the  sections  numbered  9 to  14  (with 
the  one  immediately  preceding  § 9) ; second,  in  the  division  entitled  “ System 
of  all  Principles  of  the  Pure  Reason.”  (Cf.  Appendix,  pp.  525  seq.) 


The  Critical  Philosophy  of  Kant  205 


other  words,  he  has  taught  that  an  object  is  a compound  of 
‘impressions’ 1 only.  Yet  Hume  has  virtually  admitted  the 
occurrence  of  experiences  which  are  not  impressions ; 2 and 
Kant  is  therefore  taking  the  part  of  Hume  against  Hume  in 
the  teaching  that  every  object  contains  unsensational  as  well 
as  sensational  elements,  that  even  in  perceiving  objects  we  are 
conscious  of  them  as  more  than  sensational.3  The  unsen- 
sational elements  of  the  known  objects  (not  including  the 
spatial  and  temporal  elements)  Kant  calls  categories,  and  he 
recognizes  twelve  of  them  — four  groups  of  three  each  — to 
correspond  with  the  classes  of  judgments  treated  in  formal 
logic. 

The  categories,  Kant  teaches,  are  results  of  the  mind’s 
activity  — or  better,  they  are  activities  of  the  mind,  and  are 
thus  distinguished  from  sensation,  for  in  sense-consciousness 
the  mind  is  merely  passive.4  The  categories  are  further- 
more, like  space  and  time  relations,  a priori , that  is,  inde- 
pendent of  sense-experience,  universal  and  necessary.  Ac- 
cording to  Kant  this  seems  to  mean  that  one  may  make  uni- 
versal and  unqualified  assertions  and  predictions  about  them. 
We  do  not  know  what  will  be  the  sensible  qualities  of  the 

1 It  should  be  observed  that  Hume’s  term  ‘impressions’  and  Kant’s  term 
‘sensations’  cover  both  sensations  proper  and  affections  of  pleasantness  and 
unpleasantness. 

2 Cf.  supra,  pp.  169  seq. 

3 Occasionally  Kant  is  disposed  to  admit  that  some  objects  are  merely 
given  — in  other  words,  that  uncategorized,  purely  sensational,  objects  of 
experience  do  occur,  though  they  are  not  known.  (Cf.  A,  90;  B,  123.) 
Usually,  however,  he  holds  the  correct  view  that  every  object,  even  of  per- 
ception, is  a related  object. 

4 Kant  lays  great  stress  on  this  contrast  (following  Leibniz,  through 
Wolff.  Cf.  “Aesthetic,”  § 1,  A,  19;  B,  33;  “Logic,”  Introduction,  I.,  A,  50; 
B,  74;  W.,  40;  A,  67-68,  B,  92-93;  W.,  46-47).  Kant  has  been  widely  fol- 
lowed in  this  distinction ; yet,  in  the  opinion  of  the  writer  and  of  many  stu- 
dents of  psychology,  accurate  introspection  does  not  bear  out  the  contrast. 
The  distinction  of  ‘ active  ’ and  ‘ passive  ’ is  not  indeed  properly  made,  for, 
in  one  sense,  all  consciousness  is  activity;  and,  in  another  sense,  every 
finite  self  is  passively  conscious.  The  overdrawn  distinction  of  sense  from 
thought  is,  it  should  be  added,  responsible  for  certain  fundamental  errors  of 
Kant’s  philosophy. 


206  Attack  upon  Dualism  and  P hen  omen  alism 

physical  universe  three  billion  years  from  now,  but  we  do 
know  that,  whatever  its  constituents,  it  must  be  a totality, 
that  it  must  be  like  or  unlike  the  physical  universe  of  this 
year  1906,  and  that  its  present  condition  is  causally,  though 
indirectly,  connected  with  that  future  condition  of  it.  Or, 
to  take  a simpler  instance,  we  cannot  predict  a priori  the 
sensible  character  of  the  event  to  follow  on  a present  event. 
A sound  or  a flash  of  light  may  follow  on  the  contact  of  the 
wires,  but  whatever  happens  will  be  like  or  unlike  something 
else,  will  be  the  result  of  what  has  gone  before,  and  will 
always  be  so  regarded.  In  other  words,  the  sensible  quali- 
ties of  future  things  and  events  cannot  with  assurance  be 
predicted ; but  the  unsensational  characters  of  future  events 
and  things  are  predictable,  and  in  that  sense  universal  and 
necessary.  Both  because  they  are  predictable  and  because 
they  imply  mental  activity,  the  categories,  Kant  teaches,  are 
subjective.  He  argues  their  occurrence  and  their  unsensa- 
tional character  against  Hume,  and  their  subjectivity  against 
Wolff. 

As  so  far  outlined,  Kant’s  analysis  of  the  world  of  known 
objects  and,  in  particular,  of  perceived  objects,  has  consisted  in 
the  teaching  that  an  object  is  made  up  (1)  of  sensations  — 
chaotic,  individual  experiences,  passively  received  by  the 
mind,  and  due  to  unknown  things-in-themselves ; and  (2)  of 
space  and  time  relations,  unsensational  ‘forms,’  or  construc- 
tions of  the  mind  itself,  corresponding  to  nothing  beyond 
consciousness,  but  endowed  with  a peculiar  universality. 
The  chief  purpose  of  his  category  doctrine  — the  Transcen- 
dental Logic,  as  he  calls  it  — is  to  discuss  the  remaining 
characters  of  known  objects,  the  categories.  Among  these, 
however,  he  lays  especial  stress  on  four,  degree,  totality, 
causality,  and  reciprocal  connection,  which  are  relations  of  a 
known  object  within  itself  or  with  other  objects  and,  as  such, 
unsensational  factors  of  experience.  In  the  course  of  his 
discussion  of  the  categories  Kant  also  restates  his  doctrine 
of  space  and  time,  so  that  these  sections  of  the  “Kritik” 


The  Critical  Philosophy  of  Kant  207 

contain  Kant’s  full  doctrine  of  relations.  In  this  chapter, 
only  Kant’s  conception  of  the  four  categories  just  named  is 
discussed.1 

Kant’s  procedure  throughout  the  category  discussion  is  the 
following : He  considers  objects  as  perceived,  on  the  ground 
that  these,  if  any,  might  be  supposed  to  be  purely  sensational. 
And  he  points  out  that,  even  in  perceiving  objects,  we  are 
conscious  of  them  as  involving  categories.  This  general 
statement  must  be  amplified  by  a consideration  of  the  dif- 
ferent categories. 


1.  The  category  of  totality 2 

In  perceiving  any  object,  Kant  argues,  we  are  conscious, 
not  merely  of  its  sensational  characters,  — its  color,  texture, 
spatial  qualities,  and  all  the  rest,  — but  we  are  also  conscious 
of  these  qualities  as  belonging  together,  as  combined,  fused, 
unified.  And  this  consciousness  of  totality,  or  combination, 
is  an  essential  feature  of  the  consciousness  of  an  object; 
in  Kant’s  terms,  in  perceiving  an  object,  we  unify  the  mani- 
fold of  impressions  of  which  it  is  made  up.3  This  unity,  or 
totality,  may  be  spatial,  but  it  may  conceivably  be  non-spa tial; 
for  example,  we  are  conscious  as  well  of  a union  of  sound, 
smell,  and  taste,  as  of  a union  of  top  and  bottom,  right  and 
left.  Kant,  however,  uses  a case  of  spatial  totality  to  illus- 
trate this  truth  that  a consciousness  of  unity  is  a constituent 
of  every  percept.  “I  cannot,”  he  says,  have  the  conscious- 
ness of  any  line,  however  short,  “without  drawing  it  in 

1 For  critical  summary  of  Kant’s  doctrine  of  the  categories  (including 
those  which  are  not  considered  in  this  chapter),  cf.  Appendix,  pp.  525  seq. 

2 Kant  discusses  the  categories  of  quantity,  of  which  totality  is  most  im- 
portant, in  “Analytic,”  Bk.  I.,  §§  10-12,  and  in  Bk.  II.,  under  the  head  of 
“Axioms  of  Perception,”  A,  80  seq.,  161  seq.;  B,  106  seq.,  202  seq.;  W.,  51  seq., 
92  seq. 

3 A,  162;  B,  203;  W.,  93.  For  a criticism  of  Kant’s  statement  ‘we  unify’ 
as  compared  with  the  statement  ‘we  are  conscious  of  unity,’  cf.  James’s 
“Principles  of  Psychology,”  II.,  p.  2,  note;  and  the  writer’s  “An  Introduc- 
tion to  Psychology,”  p.  177. 


208  Attack  upon  Dualism  and  P henomenalism 

imagination  — that  is,  without  producing  it,  part  by  part, 
ft;om  a point.”  The  illustration  is  unfortunate,  for  ordinary 
observation  contradicts  its  statement  of  fact.  We  are  most 
often  conscious  of  small  figures,  not  as  connected  parts  but 
as  simple  units;  though  we  sometimes  construct  complex 
spatial  figures  in  exactly  the  slow,  reflective  way  which  Kant 
describes,  — for  example,  in  imagination  we  combine  geo- 
metrical figures  into  a larger  whole,  or  construct,  part  by 
part,  some  complicated  design.  But  though  Kant  has  pitched 
on  a defective  example  of  perceptual  complexity,  he  is  none 
the  less  correct  in  his  doctrine  that  perception,  the  experience 
of  a complex  of  sense  qualities,  does  include  an  unsensational 
consciousness  of  the  holding  together,  the  totality,  of  these 
qualities.  And  he  is  unquestionably  right  in  the  teaching 
that  the  relatedness,  or  totality,  of  the  parts  of  an  object  is 
a priori,  necessary,  in  the  sense  already  indicated : in  other 
words,  that  without  exception  and  inevitably  an  object  must 
be  conceived  as  totality  of  its  parts.  It  should  be  added 
that  spatial  totality  is  one  of  the  spatial  relations  already 
treated  in  the  first  division  of  the  “Kritik,”  and  that  it  is  not 
easy  to  account  for  Kant’s  failure  to  recognize  the  present 
discussion  as  in  part  a repetition  of  what  has  preceded.1 

2.  The  category  of  degree  ( implied  in  the  discussion  of  the 
category  of  reality ) 2 

Every  perceived  object  includes,  Kant  teaches,  besides  the 
relation  of  totality,  some  relation  of  degree,  involving,  as  is 
evidefit,  comparison.  Kant  means  that  every  sensation  has 
a degree  of  intensity ; that  is,  it  is  more  or  less  bright  or  loud 
or  fragrant  than  other  sensations  with  which  it  is  always 

1 Cf.  Appendix,  p.  524s. 

2 Kant  discusses  the  ‘ categories  of  quality,’  among  which  is  his  category 
of  ‘reality,’  in  Bk.  I.,  §§  10-12  of  the  “Analytic,”  and  in  Bk.  II.,  under 
the  head  of  “Anticipations  of  Observation.”  He  only  incidentally  refers 
to  the  category  of  degree.  Cf.  A,  80  seq.,  166  seq.;  B,  106  seq.,  207  seq. ; W., 
52  seq.,  96  seq.;  and  Appendix,  p.  528. 


The  Critical  P hilosophy  of  Kant  209 

compared.  In  Kant’s  own  words:  “The  real,  which  is  an 
object  of  sensation  has  intensive  magnitude,  that  is,  a degree. ’V1 
That  is  to  say,  an  object  may  always  be  known  as  being 
sensationally  ‘more’  or  ‘less’  intense  than  other  objects. 
Thus,  Kant  has  again  established  the  point  which  he  is  mak- 
ing against  Hume : the  truth  that  the  known  object  (the 
phenomenon,  as  Kant  calls  it)  includes  relations,  as  well 
as  impressions  (sensations).  For  he  shows  that,  in  being 
conscious  of  the  sense  qualities  of  an  object,  we  are  conscious 
always  of  its  degree,  that  is,  of  themore-or-less-ness  of  its  color, 
fragrance,  and  other  sense  qualities.  He  asserts,  furthermore, 
that  the  degree,  the  relation  of  more  or  less,  iso  priori,  must  in- 
variably and  inevitably  be  predicated.  “ There  is  something 
which  has  to  do  with  . . . sensation,”  Kant  says,  “which 
may  be  known  a priori.  . . . [The  sensation  has]  intensive 
magnitude,  that  is;  a degree.  . . . Every  color,  for  example, 
red,  has  a degree  which,  however  small,  is  never  the  smallest 
possible;  and  so  it  is  with  warmth,  with  weight,  etc.  ” 2 I can- 
not tell  how  bright  may  be  the  red  of  this  evening’s  sunset ; 
but  I may  know  that  every  red  sunset  will  be  more  or  less 
bright  than  other  sunsets  (if  not  equally  bright) ; in  other 
words,  every  sensational  object  involves  an  a priori  relational 
category  of  degree. 

It  should  be  added  that  these  categories  of  degree  are  one 
class  only  of  a larger  group,  the  categories  of  comparison, 
on  which  Kant  lays  little  stress.  To  this  group  belong  also 
the  categories  of  sameness  and  likeness  and  their  opposites. 
All  these  categories  of  comparison  are  necessary  and  universal ; 
and,  as  a class,  it  must  be  noted  they  are  different  from  the 
connective  relations  of  spatially  related  objects  and  tem- 
porally related  events.3 


1 These  words  form  the  heading  of  the  “ Anticipations  of  Observation,” 
in  Edition  B,  207;  W.,  96. 

2 A,  169;  B,  21 1 ; W.,  97. 

3 Kant  refers  to  the  ‘sameness’  of  recognized  objects  in  the  so-called 
“Synthesis  of  Recognition”  (A,  103;  W.,  60).  This  consciousness  of  same- 


210  Attack  upon  Dualism  and  Phenomenalism 
3.  The  category  0}  ( phenomenal ) causality 1 

Every  object  is  known,  Kant  teaches,  not  merely  as  a 
totality  and  as  comparable  with  other  objects;  it  is  known, 
also,  as  causally  related.  In  opposition  to  Hume,  Kant 
therefore  recognizes  as  constituent  of  every  known  object 
the  a priori,  that  is,  necessary  and  universal,  category  of 
causality.  “Experience,”  he  says,  “is  possible  only  through 
the  consciousness  of  a necessary  connection  of  percepts.”  2 
The  essential  features  of  Kant’s  conception  are  clear.  We 
know  an  ordered  world  of  physical  phenomena  in  relation  to 
each  other.  The  world  which  we  know  is  not  composed  of 
isolated  objects  or  of  unconnected  events.  Just  as  certainly 
as  we  experience  the  color  and  sound  of  it,  we  know  the  inter- 
v/  connectedness  of  it  — the  relation  of  one  object,  or  event,  to 
the  others.  Moreover,  we  know  this  relation  as  neces- 
sarily and  as  universally  predicable.  We  cannot,  it  is  true, 
Kant  seems  to  say  with  Hume,  assert  with  absolute  certainty 
that  any  given  event  is  necessarily  the  effect  of  any  other 
particular  event,3  but  we  do  know  that  some  effect, 
whether  or  not  we  discover  the  nature  of  it,  follows  nec- 
essarily upon  a cause.  It  could  never  be  admitted,  Kant 
insists,  that  the  causal  relation  is  purely  imaginary  or  that 
the  effect  must  not  be  ‘everywhere  perceived’  as  determined 
by  the  cause.4  On  the  contrary,  the  effect  follows  ‘ without 


ness  is  there  treated  as  an  argument  for  the  unity  of  consciousness,  but  is  not 
explicitly  named  category.  Cf.  the  discussion  of  these  categories  in  Chap- 
ter 11,  on  Hegel,  pp.  369  seq. 

1 Kant  discusses  the  relation  of  phenomenal  causality  in  Bk.  I.,  §§  10-12, 
of  the  “Analytic,”  and  in  Bk.  II.,  in  the  second  and  third  “Analogies 
of  Experience,”  A,  loc.  cit.,  and  189  seq. ; B,  loc.  cit.,  and  232  seq. ; W.,  loc. 
cit.,  and  no  seq.  For  Kant’s  conception  of  cause,  in  the  other  sense  of 
‘ explanation’ or  ‘ground,’  — intelligible  cause,  as  he  calls  it,  — cf.  infra, 
pp.  2593  seq. 

’This  is  the  heading  of  the  “Analogies  of  Experience,”  in  Edition  B 
(p.  218;  W.,  101).  Cf.  also  A,  189;  B,  234;  W.,  no. 

’A,  196;  B,  241;  W.,  1152. 

4B,  234. 


The  Critical  Philosophy  of  Kant  1 1 1 


exception  and  necessarily  ’ 1 upon  the  cause.  And  from  the 
necessity  inherent  in  the  nature  of  the  causal  relation  Kant 
argues  the  subjectivity,  or  ideal  character,  of  causality. 
“We  are  concerned,”  he  says,  “only  with  our  own  ideas; 
the  being  of  things-in-themselves  [realities  independent  of 
consciousness]  is  entirely  outside  our  sphere  of  knowledge.”  2 
We  cannot  possibly  predicate  of  them  any  universally  ad- 
mitted relation.  The  circumstance  that  we  find  ourselves 
universally  and  necessarily  asserting  the  causal  relation  is  a 
proof  that  the  causality  belongs  to  the  ideal  world  and  not  to 
a world  independent  of  consciousness. 

The  full  force  of  Kant’s  conception  of  phenomenal  cau- 
sality is  gained  only  by  comparing  it  with  Hume’s  teaching. 
It  will  be  remembered  that  Kant’s  study  of  Hume’s  doctrine 
of  causality  formed,  as  he  himself  assures  us,  the  point  of 
departure  for  his  own  critical  philosophy.  Hume,  he  says, 
“awaked  me  from  my  dogmatic  slumber” ; 3 and  the  “ Kritik 
of  Pure  Reason,”  he  elsewhere  says,  “was  inspired  by  this 
Humian  doubt.” 4 That  is  to  say,  Kant’s  study  of  the 
category  of  causality  led  to  his  discovery  of  the  other  cate- 
gories; and  this,  as  will  appear,  brought  him  to  the  formu- 
lation of  his  most  important  doctrine,  that  of  the  transcen- 
dental self.  The  gist  of  Hume’s  teaching  about  causality 
is,  it  will  be  remembered,  the  following : There  is,  in  the 
first  place,  no  power  or  causality  in  objects  existing  inde- 
pendently of  our  consciousness.  On  the  contrary,  causality 
is  the  anticipated,  or  inferred,  regular  sequence  of  events, 
or  — more  precisely  — it  is  a transition  or  inference  of  the 
imagination.  There  is,  in  the  second  place,  no  necessary 
relation  between  cause  and  effect.  Hume  argues  this 
(a)  because  cause  and  effect,  antecedent  and  consequent,  are 
distinguishable  ideas  and  therefore  not  necessarily  related; 

1 A,  198;  B,  244. 

2 A,  190;  B,  235 ; W.,  hi. 

3 “ Prolegomena,”  Preface. 

4 “Kritik  of  Practical  Reason,”  p.  56  (Hartenstein  Edition,  1867). 


212  Attack  upon  Dualism  and  Phenomenalism 

( b ) because  we  gain  our  knowledge  of  causes  through  acci- 
dental experience  and  are  never  able  to  predict  the  effect 
of  a given  event ; ( c ) because  past  experience  is  no  guar- 
antee of  the  future.1 

Kant’s  agreement  with  Hume  is  much  farther  reaching 
than  is  ordinarily  supposed.  He  subscribes  without  reserve 
to  the  first  stated  of  Hume’s  teachings ; and  though  he  denies 
the  second,  he  admits  at  least  one  of  its  premises.  To  begin 
with  the  most  fundamental  agreement:  Kant  is  as  sure  as 
Hume  is,  that  causality  is  no  character  or  relation  of  things 
independent  of  consciousness,  and  that,  on  the  contrary, 
causality  is  a transition  of  the  mind,  a mental  connection. 
What  is  meant,  both  philosophers  would  declare,  when  it  is 
asserted  that  the  rubbing  of  sticks  together  is  the  cause 
of  a spark,  is  simply  that  we,  conscious  beings,  mentally 
combine  the  two  phenomena  in  a certain  way,  that  we 
regard  the  spark  as  effect  of  the  friction.  The  only  differ- 
ence — an  important  one,  to  be  sure  — between  Kant  and 
Hume,  at  this  point,  is  that  while  Hume  describes  this 
mental  transition  as  ‘imagination’  or  ‘belief,’  Kant  calls  it 
‘thought.’  n 

The  second  of  Hume’s  teachings  about  causality  is  the 
denial  of  a necessary  connection  between  succeeding  events. 
This  doctrine  is  indeed  already  implied  by  Hume’s  account 
of  the  causal  consciousness  as  imagination;  and  as  Kant 
has  denied  the  uncertain  character  of  the  causal  conscious- 
ness, so  he  disputes  the  contingency  of  the  connection  between 
phenomena.2  The  causal  connection  between  succeeding 
events  is,  he  holds,  a necessary  connection.  This  important 

1 The  order  of  treatment  of  the  chapter  on  Hume  is  here  altered. 

2 Whereas  Hume  argues  that  causality,  just  because  it  is  mental,  is  not 
objective  and  therefore  lacks  necessity,  Kant  teaches  that  causality  is  sub- 
jective because  it  is  necessary.  In  other  words,  both  teach  the  subjectivity 
of  causality,  but  Hume  deduces  the  contingency  from  the  admitted  sub- 
jectivity, while  Kant  infers  the  subjectivity  from  the  admitted  necessity. 
With  the  one,  subjectivity  is  the  starting-point;  with  the  other,  it  i:i  the 
conclusion. 


The  Critical  Philosophy  of  Kant  213 

divergence  of  Kant  from  Hume  must  be  discussed  at  some 
length. 

Hume  argues  that  events  are  not  causally  and  necessarily 
connected  on  the  ground  that  each  event  is  a separate,  self- 
sufficient  phenomenon  and  therefore  unconnected  either 
temporally  or  causally  with  any  other.  In  justified  opposi- 
tion to  this  Kant  points  out  that  “the  preceding  time  neces- 
sarily determines  the  following.”  1 We  may  add  : an  event 
means  precisely  a somewhat  which  is  necessarily  connected 
with  its  past-  and  with  its  future,  and  it  is  a contra- 
diction in  terms  to  deny  the  connectedness  of  one  event 
with  another.2 

Kant  thus  vindicates  the  necessity  of  the  purely  temporal 
connection.  But  though  the  causal  connection  implies  the 
temporal,  it  is,  as  Hume  and  Kant  both  recognize,  more- 
than-temporal.  In  other  words,  the  doctrine  of  causal 
necessity  is  the  teaching  that,  given  a necessary  connection 
between  two  events,  a and  b,  the  second  event,  b,  could  not 
have  been  replaced  by  any  other.  Against  this  sort  of 
necessary  connection  Hume,  it  will  be  remembered,  has  two 
arguments.  There  is,  he  urges,  no  necessary  — that  is,  uni- 
form — connection  between  events,  for  we  gain  our  knowledge 
of  causality  through  specific  experience.  So  far  from  deny- 
ing this,  Kant  admits  that  the  ‘logical  clearness’  of  the  causal 
principle  is  only  then  possible  when  we  have  made  use  of  it 
in  experience.  He  does  not  dispute  “ the  accepted  doc- 
trine” that  “we  are  led  to  the  concept  of  cause  by  the 
harmonious  relation  of  many  events.” 3 But  though  Kant 
accepts  this,  the  premise  of  Hume’s  argument,  he  de- 
nies the  validity  of  the  conclusion  which  Hume  draws  from 
it.  Kant  teaches,  in  other  words,  that  the  impossibility 
of  knowing  with  certainty  just  what  will  be  the  nature  of  a 
given  effect  does  not  impair  the  certainty  that  there  will  be 

1 A,  200;  B,  246;  W.,  116. 

2 Cf.  infra,  pp.  214  seq.,  to  show  that  Kant  means  more  than  this. 

3 A,  195;  B,  241;  W.,  1 15. 


214  Attack  upon  Dualism  and  Phenomenalism 

some  effect.1  It  is  true,  he  would  admit,  that  the  contact  of 
one  billiard  ball  with  another  may  not  have  as  its  effect  the 
event  which  we  have  foreseen,  the  motion  of  the  second  ball. 
But  it  still  may  be  necessarily,  that  is  universally,  true  — in 
other  words,  I may  have  at  any  time  to  admit  — that  some 
definite  effect  follows  uniformly  on  the  motion  of  the  first 
billiard  ball. 

Hume  has  a second  argument : Upholders  of  necessary 
connection  admit  that  if  a cause  recur  it  must  be  followed 
by  a recurring  effect.  Hume  denies  this  uniformity  of  the 
causal  relation.  A past  or  present  experience,  he  insists,  can 
offer  no  guarantee  for  the  future : for  example,  one  may  not 
argue  from  the  present  relation  of  spark  and  flame  to  the 
future  sequence  of  one  upon  the  other.  Presumably  to  meet 
this  argument,  Kant  urges  the  following  consideration : It 
is  admitted,  he  says,  that  we  know  a succession  of  objects, 
that  is,  distinguish  an  objective  from  a subjective  succession. 
But  objectivity,  he  holds,  is  constituted  by  causality,  that  is, 
by  necessarily  uniform  succession.  Therefore  our  knowledge 
of  succeeding  objects  or  events  is  a guarantee  of  the  causal 
succession  of  phenomena.  Kant  has  a well-known  illustration 
of  our  ability  to  distinguish  objective  from  subjective  suc- 
cession : 2 When  I look  at  a boat  drifting  down-stream,  I 
must  see  the  boat  at  the  source  of  the  river  before  I see  it  at 
the  river’s  mouth.  When,  on  the  contrary,  I look  at  a house, 
I may  successively  see  the  parts  in  any  one  of  several  orders : 
I may  see  first  the  roof  and  last  the  cellar,  or  first  the  cellar 
and  last  the  roof.  I could  not  possibly,  however,  Kant  asserts, 
distinguish  the  objectivity  of  the  successions  of  the  boat’s 
positions  from  the  subjectivity  of  the  series  of  ideas  of  the 
house,  were  not  the  boat’s  positions  linked  in  a necessary 
uniform  connection  which  is  lacking  to  the  successive  ideas. 

1 This  doctrine  is  implied  in  A,  193-194,  B,  238-239,  W.,  113^114  — a 
passage  written  with  another  purpose,  namely,  to  emphasize  the  irrevers* 
ibleness  of  the  causal  relation. 

2 A,  191-195;  B,  237-240;  W.,  112-114. 


The  Critical  Philosophy  of  Kant  215 


The  fatal  flaw  in  this  argument  was  indicated  twenty  years 
later  by  Schopenhauer.1  It  is  not  true  that  the  successive 
ideas  of  a ‘subjective  series’  are  uncaused.  To  take  Kant’s 
example : there  is  certainly  some  cause  for  that  position  of 
my  head  and  eyes  which  results  in  my  first  looking  upward 
to  the  roof  or  downward  to  the  cellar  of  the  house,  and  every 
successive  movement  is  conditioned  by  the  bodily  position 
or  movement  which  preceded  it.  Even  in  the  case  of  a purely 
imaginary  series  of  ideas,  the  image  of  any  moment  has  a cause 
— physiological  or  psychical  or  both — in  the  preceding  mo- 
ment. But  since,  thus,  subjective  as  well  as  objective  series 
are  causally  bound  together,  it  follows  that  causality  though  a 
character  of  objective  series  is  not  their  distinguishing  mark.2 

Kant  cannot  therefore  prove  a necessary  and  uniform 
connection  of  events  by  use  of  the  distinction  between  ob- 
jective and  subjective  succession.  But  in  another  section 
of  the  “ Kritik,”  3 he  argues  in  more  justifiable  fashion  for  the 
necessity  of  causal  connection.  “If  cinnabar,”  he  says, 
“turned  sometimes  red,  sometimes  black,  sometimes  light, 
and  sometimes  heavy;  if  a man  were  transformed  now  into 
the  shape  of  this  animal  and  now  of  that ; if  on  the  longest 
day  the  earth  were  covered  now  with  fruits  and  again  with 
ice  and  snow,  — then  my  empirical  imagination  would  never 
have  occasion  on  observation  of  the  red  color  to  think  of  the 
heavy  cinnabar.  There  must  therefore  be  something  which, 
as  a priori  ground  of  a necessary  synthetic  unity  of  phenomena  , 
makes  this  very  reproduction  of  phenomena  possible.”  Kant’s 

1 “The  Fourfold  Root  of  the  Principle  of  Sufficient  Reason,”  § 23 ; cf .infra, 
P-  345- 

2 It  should  be  added  that  Kant  himself  elsewhere  formulates  another  and 
a justifiable  criterion  of  objectivity.  Cf.  “Second  Analogy,”  B,  234;  also 
infra,  pp.  231  seq. 

3 A,  100  seq.;  W.,  58  seq.,  “Transcendental  Deduction,  Synthesis  of 
Reproduction.”  Cf.  Benno  Erdmann’s  use  of  this  argument  in  a very  im- 
portant paper  on  “The  Content  and  Validity  of  the  Causal  Law,”  in  Report 
of  Congress  of  Science  and  Arts  at  St.  Louis,  Vol.  I.,  also  in  the  Philosophi- 
cal Review,  XIV.,  1905.  Cf.,  also,  A.  E.  Taylor,  “ Elements  of  Metaphysics,” 
pp.  165  seq. 


2 1 6 A ttack  upon  Dualism  and  Phenomenalism 

meaning  is  clear.  Hume  had  argued  somewhat  as  follows', 
the  heat  of  this  June  is  an  event  distinct  from  next  June’s 
heat ; why  then  must  heat  be  followed  by  luxuriant  vege- 
tation next  June  as  well  as  this?  Kant  replies:  our  ex- 
perience would  not  be  what  it  is  — in  other  words,  we  should 
not  know  the  world  as  a connected  whole  of  regularly  recur- 
ring phenomena — if  the  causal  uniformity  were  not  absolutely 
universal.  The  writer  of  this  book,  like  some  other  critics  of 
Kant,  challenges  this  conclusion.  It  is  obvious,  of  course,  that 
we  expect  such  uniformity  and  that  this  expectation  is  implied 
in  our  constant  assumption  of  the  regularity  of  nature.  But 
there  seems  no  cogent  reason  to  doubt  that  we  should  assume 
the  uniformity,  on  the  basis  of  our  past  experience,  even  if  a 
future  exception  to  the  uniformity  were  possible  — and  even 
if  we  were  sure  of  such  a possibility.  There  seems,  in  other 
words,  no  reason  to  deny  that  our  consciousness  of  the  world 
as  a connected  whole  might  be  built  up  as  well  on  the  basis 
of  an  ordinarily  uniform  experience  as  on  the  assumption  of 
an  inevitably  uniform  experience. 

If  this  criticism  of  Kant  be  admitted,  it  follows  that  he 
has  not  disproved  Hume’s  assertion  : the  causal  and  uniform 
connection  of  events  has  not  been  shown  to  be  absolutely  nec- 
essary. Yet  as  will  appear,  the  failure  to  demonstrate  this 
necessity  does  not  invalidate  the  argument  based  by  Kant  on 
his  category  doctrine.  And  more  than  this,  in  two  features 
of  his  causality  doctrine,  Kant  has  scored  against  Hume. 
He  has  shown,  in  the  first  place,  the  invalidity  of  that  argu- 
ment in  which  Hume  denies  necessity  on  the  ground  that 
one  learns  specific  causal  connections  through  accidental  ex- 
perience. And  he  has  emphasized,  in  the  second  place,  the 
unquestioned  necessity,  denied  by  Hume,  of  the  temporal 
connection  of  events  — the  necessity,  in  other  words,  of  the 
link  between  before  and  after,  past,  present,  and  future.1 

1 This  is,  of  course,  a virtual  repetition  of  Kant’s  teaching  about  time. 
Incidentally,  the  inclusion  of  it  with  the  discussion  of  causality  shows  the  ar- 
tificiality of  the  separation  of  space  and  time  from  the  categories.  It  should 


The  Critical  Philosophy  of  Kant 


217 


4.  The  category  of  reciprocal  connection 1 

At  least  one  other  relation  is  discoverable  in  the  experienced 
world.  Besides  knowing  every  object  as  a totality  and  as  a 
comparable  thing,  and  besides  knowing  temporal  events  as 
causally  connected,  we  are  aware  of  a necessary  connection 
between  untemporal  phenomena.  This  relation  has  already 
been  implied  by  that  of  totality.  The  line  is  the  whole  of  its 
parts;  but  the  parts  are  necessarily  connected  one  with  the 
other,  indeed,  their  connection  is  as  necessary  as  that  of  a 
cause  with  its  effect.  Similarly,  the  first  term  in  a binomial 
series  is  necessarily  connected  with  the  middle  term  or  the 
last.  This  form  of  necessary  connection  is  distinguished, 
Kant  teaches,  in  the  following  way  from  the  causal  con- 
nection. The  causal  and  the  temporal  series  are  irreversi- 
ble : the  past  is  inevitably  over  before  the  present,  the  result 
may  not  precede  the  cause.  On  the  other  hand,  a reciprocal 
connection  is  reversible : reciprocally  connected  phenomena 
may  be  apprehended  in  reversible  order.  One  may  look 
from  right  to  left  or  from  left  to  right  of  the  line,  from  west 
to  east  or  from  east  to  west  of  the  spatially  related  scene. 
Right  and  left,  east  and  west  are  connected,  but  their  order 
is,  none  the  less,  reversible.  In  its  application  to  spatial  and 
to  other  mathematical  quantities  this  is  evidently  the  cate- 
gory, emphasized  in  modem  mathematics,  of  order. 

be  added  that  certain  paragraphs  of  the  “Second  Analogy”  consider 
neither  causal  nor  temporal  connection,  but  rather  the  reciprocally  neces- 
sary relation  of  parts  within  an  object  (a  topic  which  is  elsewherfe  appro- 
priately considered;  cf.  Appendix,  p.  527). 

1 This  category  is  only  incidentally  referred  to  by  Kant  in  the  “ Third 
Analogy”  (which  is  mainly  occupied  with  the  consideration  of  a form  of 
causality  — mutual  causality  — which  Kant  calls  reciprocity).  Cf.  A,  loc. 
cit.,  and  211  seq.;  B,  loc.  cit.,  and  256  seq. ; W.,  118  seq.  Cf,  also,  Ap- 
pendix, p.  531. 


218  Attack  upon  Dualism  and  Phenomenalism 


b.  Kant's  teaching,  in  opposition  to  Wolff,  that  the 
categories  are  subjective 

This  discussion  of  Kant’s  category  doctrine  has  so  far  em- 
phasized mainly  his  opposition  to  Hume,  that  is  to  say,  his 
teaching  that  the  world  of  known  objects  includes  not  merely 
sensible  qualities  but  a priori,  that  is  necessary  and  universally 
predicable,  relations.  But  Kant  opposed  with  equal  vigor 
Wolff’s  doctrine  that  these  relations  occur  outside  the  mind, 
as  links  between  realities  independent  of  consciousness.  In 
other  words,  Kant  insisted  — in  agreement  now  with  Hume 
and  the  other  idealists  — that  the  categories,  no  less  than  the 
sense  forms,  space  and  time,  and  the  sensible  qualities,  color, 
hardness,  and  the  rest,  are  themselves  subjective  or  ideal. 
But  the  world  of  known  objects  consists,  it  will  be  admitted, 
of  sense  qualities,  of  the  sense  forms,  space  and  time,  and  of 
the  categories,  totality,  causality,  and  the  rest.  Therefore 
the  known  or  experienced  object  is  an  idea,  or,  to  use 
Kant’s  term,  a phenomenon;  and  the  known  world  is  a 
world  of  ordered  phenomena,  of  subjective  realities. 

Kant’s  main  argument  for  the  subjective,  or  ideal,  character 
of  objects  as  known  has  been  indicated  in  the  discussions  of 
space,  of  time,  and  of  causality.  He  has  discovered  that 
these  relations  are  a priori,  that  is,  universally  predicable. 
But  of  reality  independent  of  consciousness  no  universal 
predication  may,  he  says,  be  made.  For  realities  independent 
of  our  consciousness,  things-in-themselves,  as  Kant  calls 
them,  could  not  affect  us,  or  stand  in  any  relation  to  us,  there- 
fore, they  must  be,  as  Kant  always  teaches,  unknown.  And 
obviously,  since  we  do  not  know  them,  we  can  make  no 
universally  predicable  assertion  about  them.  Whatever  is 
known  to  be  universally  true  must  then,  as  Kant  says,  be 
subjective.  In  his  own  words,  “Relation  ( V erbindung ) 
does  not  lie  in  objects  and  cannot,  so  to  speak,  be  borrowed 
from  them  by  sense  perception  and  so  first  be  taken  up  into 


The  Critical  Philosophy  of  Kant  219 

the  understanding;  on  the  other  hand,  connection  is  ex- 
clusively an  achievement  ( V errichtung ) of  the  understand- 
ing.” 1 This  doctrine  of  the  subjective  character  of  the 
categories,  or  relations,  is  of  course  in  exact  opposition  to 
Wolff’s  teaching.  According  to  Wolff  there  is  a ‘real’  world 
independent  of  consciousness  — a world  of  spatial  things 
and  temporal  events  linked  by  relations  of  unity,  causality, 
and  the  like.  We  have,  Wolff  teaches,  thoughts  about  these 
things  and  their  relations,  but  things  and  relations  exist 
unaffected  by  our  thought.  Kant  has  now  plundered  this 
supposed  world  of  things-in-themselves,  not  merely  of  space 
and  time,  but  of  all  the  relations  as  well.  We  know  nothing 
about  unity-in-itself  or  causality-in -itself,  he  teaches : unity 
and  causality  are  mental  activities,  ways  in  which  we 
think.2 

Kant  has  thus  answered  the  preliminary  questions  of  his 
metaphysics,  — questions  concerning  the  nature  of  objects 
and  of  our  knowledge  of  them.  Known  or  experienced 
objects  simply  are,  he  says,  complexes  of  related  sensations. 
For  example,  a grape  is  a complex  of  blueness,  smoothness, 
coolness,  flavor,  resembling  yet  differing  from  other  fruits  3 
and  necessarily  related  to  the  vine  on  the  one  hand  and  to 
Rolhwein  on  the  other.  But  sensations  and  relations  are 
mental  experiences.  Objects  are,  therefore,  through  and 
through  mental,  they  are  ideas ; we  know  them,  as  Kant  says, 
because  we  make  them.  And  yet,  though  ideal,  these  known 
objects  are,  Kant  insists,  empirically  real;4  they  are  no 

1 “Analytic,”  Bk.  I.;  B,  § 16,  p.  134;  W.,  p.  66. 

2 This  doctrine,  it  may  be  noticed,  is  pretty  generally  admitted  by  scien- 
tific thinkers  who,  holding  to  the  existence  of  ‘physical  forces’  independent 
of  our  thought,  none  the  less  believe  that  the  relations  — unity,  difference, 
and  the  like  — are  purely  mental  affairs  with  nothing  corresponding  to  them 
in  the  world  of  physical  energy. 

3 Resemblance  and  difference  are  not  numbered  by  Kant  among  the 
explicitly  named  categories. 

4 In  the  end  of  the  “Aesthetic”  (A,  28,  36;  B,  44,  32 ; W.,  29,  35)  Kant  con- 
trasts this  ‘empirical  reality’  with  ‘transcendental  ideality.’  Both  of  these 
terms  last  mentioned  are  employed  in  an  unusual  sense,  to  indicate  that 


2,20  Attack  upon  Dualism  and  Phenomenalism 

visions  and  illusions,  but  real,  concrete  things,  everyday 
trees  and  tables  and  books.1 

In  this  teaching  of  the  known  object  as  ideal,  or  phenom- 
enal, Kant,  as  has  been  said  so  often,  merely  agreed  with 
Leibniz,  Berkeley,  and  Hume.  His  significance,  at  this  point, 
was  in  his  opposition  to  Wolff,  who  had  gone  back  to  the  dual- 
istic  standpoint,  teaching  that  there  are  two  kinds  of  reality, 
mental  and  non-mental.  Kant  himself,  as  will  later  appear 
in  more  detail,  never  wholly  abandoned  Wolff’s  dualism.  He 
admitted  the  existence  of  realities  independent  of  conscious- 
ness (things -in-themselves),  and  in  fact  he  seems  to  have 
regarded  our  sensations  as  due  to  them ; but  he  insisted  that 
these  things-in  themselves  are  unknown  and  that  the  char- 
acters of  objects-as-known  are,  on  the  contrary,  sub- 
jective. The  inconsistency  and  difficulty  of  the  thing-in- 
itself  doctrine  had  already  been  exposed  by  Hume  and  by 
Berkeley,  and  will,  later  in  this  chapter,  be  discussed. 


c.  Criticism  0}  Kant's  doctrine  o}  the  necessity  of  the 
categories  2 

Before  proceeding  to  the  exposition  of  Kant’s  teaching  of 
the  subjectivity  of  the  categories,  it  is  best  to  review  and  so  far 
as  possible  to  estimate  the  main  results  of  the  category  doc- 
trine up  to  this  point.  As  will  appear,  Kant’s  most  signifi- 
cant achievement  is  his  emphasis  upon  the  fact  that  we  have 
not  merely  sensations  but  unsensational  and,  in  particular, 
relational  experiences.  In  the  strict  sense  he  does  not  demon- 
strate this  truth,  since  it  depends  for  its  acceptance  on  every 
man’s  introspection.  But  he  may  be  said  successfully  to 

known  objects  are  unreal  (ideal)  so  far  as  the  world  transcending  conscious- 
ness is  concerned. 

1 Cf.  infra,  pp.  231  seq.,  for  Kant’s  distinction  between  real  objects  and 
mere  ideas. 

2 The  untrained  student  will  perhaps  best  omit  this  section  on  the  first 
reading  of  the  chapter. 


The  Critical  Philosophy  of  Kant  221 

challenge  us  — Hume  included  — to  deny  the  occurrence  in 
our  experience  of  the  categories. 

Now  Kant’s  main  contribution  to  philosophy  — the  doc- 
trine of  the  transcendental  self  — depends,  as  will  later  be 
shown,  on  no  wider  conclusion  about  the  categories  than 
precisely  this : that  our  experience  includes  categories  as  well 
as  sensations.  Kant,  however,  treats  the  categories  in  a far 
more  exhaustive  fashion,  and  in  particular  attempts  to  explain 
the  distinction  between  categories  and  sensations.  As  has 
appeared,  he  finds  that  the  distinction  consists  in  the  uni- 
versality and  the  necessity  of  the  categories.  The  writer  of 
this  book  believes  that  Kant  does  not  make  good  this  account 
of  the  difference,  for  though  there  is  indeed  a universality  in 
the  categories,  the  same  universality  and  necessity  may  be 
predicated  of  sensations.  The  main  purpose  of  this  section 
is  to  formulate  this  criticism. 

By  ‘ the  necessary  ’ Kant  of  course  means  ‘ the  inevita- 
ble,’ and  he  recognizes  two  sorts  of  necessity,  — ‘logical’ 
necessity  and  necessity  of  another  kind,  nowadays  called 
‘ epistemological.’ 1 Now,  there  unquestionably  is  necessity  — - 
logical  or,  in  Kant’s  terms,  analytic,  necessity  — involved  in 
our  meanings,  conceptions,  and  definitions.  Even  Hume 
admitted  the  necessity  in  the  case  of  arithmetical  propositions, 
holding  that  the  square  of  3 is  necessarily  9,  because  we  mean 
by  the  square  of  3 what  we  mean  by  9.  And  similarly,  though 
Hume  did  not  always  admit  this,  the  sum  of  the  angles  of  a 
triangle  is  equal  to  two  right  angles  because  we  mean  by 
triangle  a figure  such  that  the  sum  of  its  angles  is  the  sum 
of  two  right  angles ; and  the  future  is  necessarily  connected 
with  the  present  because  by  future  we  mean  that  which 
is  connected  with  the  present.  If,  then,  by  necessity 

1 H.  Rickert  (“Der  Gegenstand  der  Erkenntniss,”  pp.  125  seg.,  especially 
p.  129)  has  shown  that  the  fundamental  form  of  epistemological  necessity 
is  the  necessity  that  of  two  contradictory  judgments  one  must  be  true. 
This  he  names  Urteilsnotwendigkeit.  Cf.  F.  C.  S.  Schiller,  “ Axioms  as 
Postulates,”  in  “ Personal  Idealism,”  p.  70,  note  (5). 


222  Attack  upon  Dualism  and  P henominalism 

is  meant  the  impossibility  of  not-meaning-what-we-do- 
mean,  in  other  words,  the  impossibility  of  self-contradic- 
tion, Kant  is  clearly  right  in  asserting  the  necessity  of  the 
categories.  But  he  is  as  clearly  wrong  in  holding  that  such 
necessity  distinguishes  the  categories  from  sensations.  For 
logically  necessary  statements  may  be  made  as  well  about 
sensations  as  about  relations.  It  is  as  necessary  that  what-I- 
mean-by-white  is  not-black  as  it  is  necessary  that  what-I- 
mean-by-two-times-two  is  four ; and  it  is  as  necessary  that 
what-I-mean-by-rose  is  fragrant  as  that  a triangle  is  the 
sum  of  two  right  angles.  The  necessity  in  both  cases  is 
that  of  my  identical  meanings.1 

It  should  be  noted  that  this  denial  of  Kant’s  distinction 
between  category  and  sensation  does  not  involve  the  ad- 
mission that  the  two  are  indistinguishable.  On  the  contrary, 
sensations  are  well  marked  off  from  the  categories.  If  the 
passage  of  this  chapter  be  reread  in  which  the  effort  is  made 
to  give  a plausible  meaning  to  Kant’s  assertion  that  the 
categories,  as  distinguished  from  sensations,  are  universal 
and  necessary,2  it  will  be  discovered  that  all  which  is  shown 
is  (i)  the  greater  observed  variety  of  sensations,  and  (2)  the 
fact  that  there  are  greater  observed  differences  between  in- 
dividuals in  their  sense  experience  resulting  in  an  indisposi- 
tion to  makp  universal  judgments  about  sense  facts;  finally, 
and  most  important,  (3)  the  fact  that  while  sensations  imply 
relations,  relations  do  not  in  the  same  way  imply  sensations. 
I cannot,  for  example,  be  conscious  of  ‘ red  ’ without  being 
conscious  of  it  as  less  or  more  bright,  but  I can  well  be  con- 
scious of  ‘more’  without  having  a consciousness  of  ‘red.’  It 

1 This  statement  about  the  necessary  appears  in  two  forms,  one  positive 
and  the  other  negative : the  self-contradictory  is  not  true ; and,  the  true  is 
self-consistent.  These  are  known  as  the  Law  of  Contradiction  and  the  Law 
of  Identity ; are  implied  in  our  certainty  of  the  fact  of  our  own  conscious- 
ness ; and  are  employed  by  philosophers  of  every  stamp  not,  as  is  often  erro- 
neously stated,  by  rationalists  only.  Of  course,  necessity  — whether,  predi- 
cated of  sensation  or  of  category  — is  itself  a category. 

2 Cf.  supra,  pp.  2052  seq. 


The  Critical  Philosophy  of  Kant  223 

follows  that  I must  predict  certain  relations  in  predicting 
any  sensations,  whereas  I am  unlikely  to  predict  these  par- 
ticular sensations  in  asserting  relations.  Thus,  to  summarize 
Kant’s  teaching  about  sensations  and  categories:  he  has 
rightly  taught  that  the  categories  are  necessary,  if  by  neces- 
sary he  means  ‘ inevitably  self-consistent  ’ ; but  he  has  wrongly 
treated  this  necessity  as  a distinction  between  sensations  and 
relations.  In  truth,  logically  necessary  statements  may  be 
made  about  sensations ; and  their  actual  distinction  from  the 
categories  is  to  be  found  mainly  in  what  may  be  named  their 
greater  variableness. 

But  it  must  now  at  once  be  pointed  out  that  Kant  does  not 
mean  by  the  necessity  of  the  categories  the  merely  logical  — 
or,  as  he  calls  it,  analytical  — necessity  of  which  we  have  so 
far  spoken.  In  attempting  to  justify  Kant’s  assertion  of  the 
necessity  of  space,  time,  and  the  categories,  we  have  in  fact 
conceived  this  necessity  in  an  un-Kantian  fashion.  It  is 
true  that  Kant  recognizes  logical  necessity,  but  he  expressly 
teaches  that  space,  time,  and  the  categories  have  a necessity 
of  another  sort.  To  make  clear  Kant’s  meaning  it  will  be 
necessary,  first,  to  state  his  distinction  between  analytic  and 
synthetic  judgments. 

“Analytic  judgments,”  Kant  teaches,  “add  nothing 
through  the  predicate  to  the  subject,  but  merely  analyze  the 
subject  into  the  partial  concepts  ( Teilbegriffe ) which  are 
already  thought  in  it  though  confusedly.  . . . Synthetic 
judgments  add  to  the  conception  of  the  subject  a predicate 
which  was  not  at  all  contained  in  it  and  which  could  not  have 
been  extracted  from  it  by  analysis.”  As  example  of  analytic 
judgment  Kant  gives  “all  bodies  are  extended,”  holding  that 
extension  is  a constituent  of  my  conception  of  body.  The 
judgment  “all  bodies  are  heavy”  is,  on  the  contrary,  accord- 
ing to  Kant,  a synthetic  judgment,  for  heaviness,  he  says, 
does  not  belong  to  the  concept  of  body.1  To  this  distinction 

1 “Esthetic,”  Introduction  ,§  4,  A,  7 seq. ; B,  11  seq. ; W.,  13  seq.  It  maj 


224  Attack  upon  Dualism  and  Phenomenalism 

of  the  synthetic  from  the  analytic  judgment  Kant  now  adds 
the  distinction  of  the  a priori  from  the  a posteriori  judgment 
— the  judgment  which  is  universal  and  necessary  from  that 
which  is  individual  and  contingent.  He  attempts,  moreover, 
to  coordinate  the  two  sets  of  distinctions — to  decide,  in  other 
words,  whether  analytic  and  synthetic  judgments  respec- 
tively are  a priori,  a posteriori,  or  of  both  kinds.  Now, 
analytic  judgments  are  one  and  all  a priori  and,  therefore,  it 
is  everywhere  and  without  exception  true  that  the  characters 
which  a concept  includes  may  be  predicated  of  it.  This  is 
the  sort  of  necessity  which  in  this  book,  and  especially  in  this 
chapter,  has  been  defended  as  valid  necessity.  A more 
important  question  in  Kant’s  view  is  the  following:  are 
synthetic  judgments,  judgments  of  discovery,  ever  necessary, 
a priori  ? It  is  evident  at  first  blush  that  one  whole  class 
of  synthetic  judgments  lack  this  necessity.1  These  are 
the  judgments  which  one  makes  through  one’s  particu- 
lar experience,  which  are  one  and  all  contingent  or  a pos- 
teriori. From  the  fact  that  I have,  for  example,  found  that 
metals  are  heavy  I may  not  rightly  infer  that  without  excep- 
tion all  metals  are  heavy.  Kant  admits,  in  other  words,  that 
most  synthetic  judgments  are  a posteriori,  contingent.  He 
insists,  however,  that  besides  these  contingent  synthetic 
judgments  of  experience  there  is  another  class  of  synthetic 
judgments  — those  which  are  a priori,  or  necessary.  These, 
he  asserts,  are  the  judgments  about  space,  time,  and  the 
categories.  In  other  words,  Kant  supposes  that  causality 
and  the  other  relations  have  a necessity  quite  different  from 
the  logical,  or  analytic,  necessity.2 

be  noted  that  Locke,  who  believed  that  solidity  is  an  essential  quality  of 
body,  would  have  named  this  judgment  also  analytic. 

Cf.  Fichte,  “ Grundlage  der  Wissenschaftslehre ; ” L.  Couturat,  “ Les 
Principes  des  Mathematiques,”  Appendix,  pp.  235  seq.;  E.  Caird,  “The 
Critical  Philosophy  of  Immanuel  Kant,”  I.,  pp.  267  seq.;  and  F.  Paulsen, 
“ Immanuel  Kant,”  transl.,  pp.  136  seq.,  for  criticism  of  Kant’s  principle 
of  distinction  between  analytic  and  synthetic  judgments. 

1 A,  9;  B,  13;  W.,  14.  2 A,  10;  B,  14;  W.,  15. 


The  Critical  Philosophy  of  Kant  225 

For  a thoroughgoing  estimate  of  this  teaching  there  is  not 
time ; but  the  following  comment  may  be  made : Kant  never 
justifies  his  assertion  that  the  necessary  ( a priori)  judgments, 
which  may  certainly  be  made  about  space,  time,  and  the 
categories,  are  synthetic  as  well  as  necessary.  In  other 
words,  Kant  rightly  asserts  the  necessity  of  such  judgments 
as  “ 5 + 7 = 12,”  “the  future  follows  on  the  present,”  but 
he  never  proves  the  truth  of  his  assertion  that  these  a priori 
judgments  are  synthetic.1  It  must  be  confessed  that  he  only 
once — in  the  case  of  causality — even  attempts  the  proof; 
and  the  truth  is  that  the  causal  principle  loses  necessity 
whenever  it  becomes  synthetic — -whenever,  in  other  words, 
it  seeks  to  prophesy  uniformity. 

And  yet  it  may  be  pointed  out  that  Kant  suggests  the 
occurrence  of  necessity  other  than  the  purely  logical  neces- 
sity of  analytic  judgments.  His  teaching  about  the  a priori 
implies  the  doctrine  that,  since  we  undeniably  have  knowl- 
edge (or  experience)  of  some  sort,  therefore  the  invariable 
constituents  of  knowledge  are  necessary.  Now  the  categories, 
or  relations,  are  in  this  sense  epistemologically  as  well  as 
logically  necessary,  since  they  belong  to  experience  and  thus 
“ make  it  possible.”  In  precisely  similar  fashion,  however, 
sensations  may  be  said  to  be  necessary  since  they,  too,  are 
always  a constituent  of  our  experience.2 

A brief  restatement  of  this  critical  section  will  conclude  it. 
In  the  view  of  the  writer,  Kant  has  (1)  proved  that  relations 
are  parts  of  our  experience  — and  this  is  all  which  the  main 
argument  of  the  “ Kritik  ” requires  of  his  category  doctrine. 
In  the  attempt  (2)  to  distinguish  categories  from  sensations 
he  has  (a)  rightly  attributed  necessity  to  space,  time,  and  the 
categories,  but  ( b ) wrongly  denied  the  same  sorts  of  necessity 
to  sensations.  He  has  made  this  mistake  because  (3)  he 

1 For  justification  of  the  statement  about  the  failure  of  Kant’s  argument 
for  the  a priority  of  causality,  cf.  supra,  p.  216.  For  assertion  of  the  analytic 
character  of  mathematical  judgments,  cf.  Couturat,  op.  cit.,  pp.  262  seq. 

2 Cf.  H.  Rickert,  op.  cit.,  especially  pp.  129  seq.,  166  seq. 

Q 


226  Attack  upon  D?ialism  and  Phenomenalism 

wrongly  regards  the  necessary  judgments  about  space,  time, 
and  the  categories  as  synthetic,  that  is,  as  involving  a neces- 
sity other  than  the  logical  impossibility  of  self-contradiction. 

B.  Kant’s  Doctrine  of  the  Self,  and  of  the  Object 

AS  RELATED  TO  THE  SELF  (IN  OPPOSITION  TO  HUME) 

I.  Kant’s  Argument  for  the  Existence  of  a Self 

According  to  Kant  the  universe  of  reality  includes  not 
merely  unknown  things  in  themselves  and  known  objects 
but  includes  also  a self,  or  knower.  This  teaching  of  Kant 
is  of  extreme  significance  in  that  it  directly  opposes  Hume’s 
teaching  that  a self,  or  knower,  does  not  and  cannot  exist 
and  that  the  universe  is  a mere  kaleidoscopic  succession  of 
ideas. 

Kant  founds  his  doctrine,— that  a self  exists, — in  the  first 
place,  on  simple  introspection.  Hume  argues  that  the 
succession  of  ideas  makes  up  the  whole  of  what  we  know. 
But  these  ideas,  Kant  points  out,  may  at  any  moment 
be  claimed  as  ‘my’  ideas.1  In  truth,  I am  never  conscious 
of  ideas  which  are  nobody’s  ideas : that  is  to  say,  in 
knowing  the  existence  of  ideas,  I know  the  existence  of  a 
self  or  of  selves.  But  besides  asserting,  as  a fact  of  im- 
mediate experience,  the  existence  of  the  self,  Kant  proceeds 
to  argue  that  certain  characters,  which  we  attribute  to  ideas, 
really  belong  to  a self  and  therefore  imply  its  existence.  In 
more  detail  Kant’s  argument  is  as  follows : — 

We  are,  in  the  first  place,  conscious  of  the  identity  of  cer- 
tain experiences  with  others.  The  consciousness  of  the 
identity  of  the  present  with  the  past  is,  in  truth,  the  essence 
of  recognition.  Kant  lays  stress  upon  this  ‘synthesis  of 
recognition,’  as  he  calls  it.  We  have,  as  he  points  out,  the 
“consciousness  that  what  we  think  is  the  same  as  that  which 

1 “Analytic,”  Bk.  I.,  § 16,  sentence  i:  “Das:  Ich  denke  muss  alle 
meine  Vorstellungen  begleiten  konnen.” 


The  Critical  Philosophy  of  Kant  227 

we  thought  a minute  ago.”1  Now 'this  identity  cannot, 
Kant  insists,  belong  to  the  ideas  themselves.  For,  as  idea 
of  a particular  moment,  each  idea  is  distinct  from  every 
other,  far  from  being  identical  with  it.  If,  therefore,  as 
Hume  contends,  there  were  no  self,  — if  the  word  ‘self’ 
were  merely  a name  for  a succession  of  ideas,  — then  one 
idea  never  could  be  looked  upon  as  identical  with  another 
which  had  gone  before;  and  no  one  even  could  say,  “This  is 
the  same  view,  or  bird  note,  or  conclusion.”  For  to-day’s 
landscape,  or  sound,  or  reflection  is  a different  idea,  a dis- 
tinct experience,  from  yesterday’s.  Yet  we  do  have  the 
experience  of  identity  — in  other  words,  we  do  recognize ; 
and  the  fact  that  identity  may  not  be  attributed  to  ideas 
leaves  us  but  the  one  way  to  account  for  the  existence  of 
identity.  The  consciousness  of  identity  is  really,  thus,  the 
consciousness  of  the  one  and  identical  self.2 

In  the  second  place,  Kant  argues  the  existence  of  the  self 
from  a more  general  character  of  the  series  of  ideas.  Not 
merely  the  one  relation  of  identity,  which  we  attribute  to 
ideas,  but  all  relations  of  ideas  to  other  ideas,  that  is,  the 
general  fact  of  the  relatedness  of  ideas  implies,  Kant  says, 
the  existence  of  a relating  or  unifying  self.  In  his  own 
words:  “The  consciousness  of  relation  can  be  created  only 
by  the  subject,  for  it  is  an  act  of  its  self-activity.”3  Kant  is 
content  with  this  assertion  that  relatedness  implies  a self  as 
relater.  The  proposition  is,  however,  so  important,  that 
it  must  be  dwelt  upon  with  more  than  Kant’s  emphasis  on 
it.  Kant  has  established  the  fact  that  the  known  world  is  a 

1 “Analytic,”  “Deduction  of  the  Pure  Concepts  of  Understanding,”  in 
Edition  A (A,  p.  103;  W.,  p.  60).  Kant  shows  that  the  consciousness  of 
identity  is  involved  also  in  perception.  Cf.  A,  98. 

2 Cf.  F.  C.  S.  Schiller,  on  “Axioms  as  Postulates,”  in  “ Personal  Idealism,” 
p.  97.  “The  felt  self-identity  of  consciousness  ...  is  the  ultimate  psy- 
chical basis  for  raising  the  great  postulate  of  logical  identity.”  Cf.  J.  S. 
Mill,  note  33  to  Vol.  II.,  Chapter  XIV.,  § 7,  of  his  edition  of  James  Mill’s 
“Analysis  of  the  Phenomena  of  the  Human  Mind.” 

3 “Transcendental  Deduction”  of  Edition  B,  B,  p.  130;  W-,  p.  64. 


228  Attack  upon  Dualism  and  Phenomenalism 

world  of  related  objects,  that  is,  of  related  ideas.  But,  as 
Hume  has  shown,  an  idea,  in  itself  considered,  is  an  isolated 
and  self-sufficient  fact.  The  idea  of  one  moment  is  indeed 
over  before  that  of  another  begins,  so  that  there  is  nothing 
in  one  idea  which  may  relate  it  to  a second.  It  follows 
that  relations  do  not  exist  as  parts  of  ideas  ; and  yet  it  has 
been  shown  already  that  all  relations  are  subjective,  that 
they  exist  in  the  world  of  consciousness,  not  in  a world 
independent  of  reality.1  But  since  ideas  are,  as  a matter 
of  experience,  in  relations  of  causality,  identity,  and  the 
like,  to  still  other  ideas,2  these  relations,  which  belong 
neither  to  objects  independent  of  consciousness  nor  to 
objects  as  known  (ideas)  must  be  characters  of  a self ; 
and  a self  must  exist  because  ideas  are  related,  because 
they  cannot  relate  themselves,  and  because  no  reality  inde- 
pendent of  consciousness  relates  them. 

Kant’s  argument  for  the  existence  of  a self  has  real  value. 
Before  Hume’s  time,  philosophers,  once  they  have  estab- 
lished the  reality  of  consciousness,  do  not  need  to  argue  for 
the  existence  of  selves;  for  consciousness  is  simply  assumed 
to  mean  selves  who  are  conscious.  Hume,  however,  chal- 
lenges this  assumption.  Pie  teaches,  to  be  sure,  that  the 
universe  consists,  through  and  through,  of  consciousness;  but 
he  conceives  of  consciousness  as  mere  succession  of  ideas. 
Kant  now  restores  selves  to  their  rights.  A world  of  con- 
sciousness must  be,  he  insists,  the  world  of  a conscious  self 
which  has  ideas ; for  the  ideas,  and  in  particular  the  identity 
and  the  relatedness  of  the  ideas,  imply  the  existence  of  an 
identical  and  unifying  self.  No  self  — no  ideas;  if  ideas  — 
then  a self : such,  in  brief,  is  Kant’s  answer  to  Hume.  And 
the  universe  of  reality,  as  so  far  formulated  by  Kant,  con- 
tains (i)  related  objects  which  have  turned  out  to  be  com- 

1 This  argument  lays  no  stress  on  the  relation  of  the  parts  within  an 
idea.  For  consideration  of  the  implication  of  relation  in  general,  cf.  infra, 
Chapter  io,  pp.  369  scq.,  and  Chapter  n,  pp.  418  seq. 

2 Cf.  quotation  on  p.  2182  above. 


The  Critical  Philosophy  of  Kant  229 


plexes  of  sensations  and  relations ; (2)  the  self  which  knows 
them;  and  (3)  unknown  things-in-themselves. 

II.  Kant’s  Doctrine  of  the  Nature  of  the  Self 

The  existence  of  known  objects,  that  is,  of  ideas,  has  thus 
been  shown  by  Kant  to  imply  the  existence  of  a conscious 
self.  Kant  does  not,  however,  — for  a reason  which  will 
later  appear,  — make  use  of  the  words  ‘self’  or ‘spirit.’  In 
their  place,  he  employs  such  expressions  as  ‘the  subject,’ 
‘the  I think,’  and  still  more  often  the  awkward  expression 
‘unity  of  apperception,’  doubtless  chosen  in  order  to  empha- 
size the  self  as  contrasted  with  the  evanescent  plurality  of  the 
successive,  momentary  ideas.  In  this  chapter  the  non-Kan- 
tian  term  ‘self’  is  retained,  for  the  sake  of  brevity  and  clear- 
ness.1 No  part  of  Kant’s  philosophy  has  more  constructive 
value  and  none  has  had  more  historical  significance  than  his 
doctrine  of  the  nature  of  the  self.  The  most  characteristic 
feature  of  this  doctrine  is  the  distinction  which  he  makes 
between  the  ‘transcendental’  self,  as  he  calls  it,  and  the 
‘empirical’  self. 

a.  The  transcendental  and  the  empirical  self 

Heretofore,  philosophers  have  distinguished  only  between 
finite  selves  and  infinite  self.  Kant  finds  the  conception 
‘finite  self’  too  crude  to  do  justice  to  the  complexity  of  self- 
consciousness,  but  the  distinction  by  which  he  seeks  to 
enrich  it  — the  distinction  between  transcendental  and 
empirical  self 2 — is,  as  will  appear,  vague  and  indecisive. 

1 The  terms  ‘ Gemiith’  and  ‘innerer  Sinn  (inner  sense)  ’ as  used  in  the  first 
part  of  the  “Kritik,”  the  early  written  “^Esthetic,”  probably  refer  to  the  self 
as  contrasted  with  the  thing-in-itself.  Occasionally  these  terms  creep  into 
the- “Analytic”  — usually  as  synonyms  for  ‘empirical  self,’  in  some  one  of 
its  meanings. 

2 Cf.  “Analytic,”  “Transcendental  Deduction  of  the  Pure  Concepts  of  Un- 
derstanding,” of  Edition  B,  §§  16-19,  PP-  I32  se1-!  W.,  pp.  65  seq.  Even 
the  beginner  in  philosophy  should  read  these  sections,  containing,  as  they  do, 
the  core  of  Kant’s  teaching. 


230  Attack  upon  Dualism  aud  Phenomenalism 

(1)  He  first  distinguishes  the  transcendental  self,  as  identical, 
from  the  empirical  self,  as  momentary.  Already,  in  the  argu- 
ment for  the  existence  of  a self,  Kant  has  shown  how  the 
self,  as  identical,  is  contrasted  with  the  idea,  as  momentary. 
Now  the  momentary  idea  may  be  idea-of-a-self ; as  such,  it 
is  empirical  self  and  is  distinguished  from  the  transcendental, 
the  identical,  self.  At  any  particular  instant  there  are  present 
to  my  consciousness  not  only  the  varying  complexes  of  ordered 
sensations  constituting  my  percepts  of  desk  and  book-shelves 
and  window  and  road,  but  a certain  complex,  chiefly  of 
organic  sensations,  affectively  toned,  which  makes  up  my 
this-moment’s-idea-of-myself.  This  way-that-I-feel-at-this- 
particular-moment  is  contrasted  both  with  the  percept  of 
outer  object  and  also  with  the  experienced  self  that  can- 
not be  broken  up  into  moments  — with  the  identical,  more- 
than-momentary,  one  self  of  which  each  of  us  is  conscious  — 
the  self  which  remembers  and  feels  and  intends  instead  of 
consisting  of  memory  image  or  feeling  or  purpose.  Now 
the  identical  self  is  what  Kant  means,  primarily,  by  his 
transcendental  unity  of  apperception ; and  his  empirical  self 
is,  from  this  point  of  view,  the  shifting  self  which  varies  with 
every  change  of  environment,  which  alters  in  the  process  of 
youth  to  age  and  in  the  progress  of  disease.  The  empirical 
self  is,  in  fact,  Kant  says,  “a  many-colored  self,”  or  rather,  it 
is  a series  of  selves,  each  one  a distinct  idea,1  whereas  the  tran- 
scendental self  is  my  own  deeper,  underlying,  identical  self. 

(2)  The  transcendental  as  contrasted  with  the  empirical  self 
is,  in  the  second  place,  a thinking,  categorizing,  active,  not  a 
sensationally  conscious,  passive,  self.  This  is  evident  from 
the  very  name  which  Kant  applies  to  it,  synthetic  unity 
of  apperception,  and  from  the  nature  of  the  argument  which 
he  advances  for  the  existence  of  a self.  It  is  the  transcen- 
dental, more-than-momentary,  self  for  which  he  argues,  and 
he  establishes  the  truth  of  its  existence  — it  will  be  remem- 


1 B,  § 16,  paragraph  2,  sentence  5 (p.  134))  freely  paraphrased. 


The  Critical  Philosophy  of  Kant 


231 


bered  — solely  on  the  ground  that  there  must  be  a unifier, 
a relater  of  the  sense-manifold.  Such  a unifying,  relating 
self  is  a thinking  self. 

(3)  A final  important  character  is  attributed  by  Kant  to  the 
transcendental  I : it  is  not  merely  an  identical,  and  a think- 
ing, but  a universal,  self,  ‘one  universal  self-consciousness,’ 
as  he  declares.1  We  have  next,  therefore,  to  discover  how 
he  argues  that  the  self  is  universal  and  what  he  means  by 
its  universality.  Both  problems  will  be  found  to  involve  us 
in  difficulty.  In  brief,  he  argues  its  universality  from  the 
discovery  that  there  are  ‘ things  outside  me,’ 2 and  our  study 
of  his  conception  of  the  self  leads,  therefore,  to  a discussion 
of  "his  conception  of  the  ‘ thing  outside  me,’  and  of  his  argu- 
ment for  its  existence.  There  is  a sharp  distinction  — so  Kant 
teaches,  quite  in  harmony  with  everyday  philosophy  — be- 
tween my  private  ideas  (V orstellungen)  and  the  ‘things 
outside  me,’  or  ‘things  in  space.’  It  is  true  that,  accord- 
ing to  Kant,  these  ‘things  outside  me’  are  known  objects, 
and  as  such  that  they  are  themselves  ideas,  or  related  sen- 
sation-complexes,3 but  they  differ  utterly  from  the  ideas 
peculiar  to  a single  self  — the  ideas  of  a self-as-particular. 
Between  ‘ an  object  in  space  ’ and  the  ideas  (percepts  or 
images)  called  up  in  different  minds  by  this  same  object, 
there  is,  Kant  thus  insists,  a difference,  though  the  ‘thing 
outside  me’  is  itself  idea.4  For  example,  between  my 
own  particular  sight  or  percept  of  a stone,  or  your  percept 
of  it,  and  the  ‘stone  outside  me’  there  must  be  a dis- 
tinction, else  we  could  not,  Kant  observes,  make  general 

1 “Analytic,”  § 16,  B,  132;  W.,  65. 

* 2 Kant’s  reason  for  believing  the  existence  of  a universal  self  thus  re- 
sembles Berkeley’s  reason  for  asserting  that  there  is  an  infinite  self,  though, 
as  will  appear,  Kant  is  far  from  meaning  by  transcendental  self  what 
Berkeley  means  by  infinite  self. 

3 Conversely  it  is,  as  Kant  says,  true  that  “every  . . . idea  may  be  called 
an  object,  so  far  as  one  is  conscious  of  it”  (“Second  Analogy,”  B,  p.  234; 
W.,  no). 

“Analytic,”  Bk.  I.,  B,  § 18;  139-140;  W.,  70-71. 


232  Attack  upon  Dualism  and  Phenomenalism 

assertions  about  objects:  we  could  not  say  “the  thing  is 
heavy,”  but  merely  “the  thing  feels  heavy  to  me,”1  nor  could 
we  distinguish  imagination  from  perception.  Thus,  generali- 
zation and  perception  both  imply,  Kant  teaches,  ‘a  thing 
outside  me  and  not  the  mere  consciousness  of  a thing  outside 
me  ’:2  in  other  words,  “to  our  percepts  ( aiisseren  Anschau- 
ungen)  there  corresponds  something  real  in  space.”  3 

This  ‘thing  outside  me’  or  real  ‘object  in  space’  is  not,  we 
must  once  more  remind  ourselves,  an  object  independent  of 
consciousness,  in  the  sense  of  the  dualists,  Locke  and  Des- 
cartes,— in  Kant’s  own  terms,  it  is  not  a ‘thing-in-itself.’ 
Such  a view,  however  tempting,  is  impossible.  For  the  thing 
in  itself,  Kant  always  teaches,  is  unknown ; whereas  the  real 
‘object  in  space,’  though  it  is  not  your  or  my  exclusive  pos- 
session, yet  is  a thing  that  you  and  I know,  and  is  therefore 
an  idea.  The  problem  is  to  reconcile  these  two  conditions : 
to  discover  an  idea,  or  phenomenon,  which  yet  is  a ‘real 
thing’  in  a sense  in  which  our  percepts,  as  particular,  are  not 
real.  Kant’s  solution  of  the  problem  is  the  following:  he 
conceives  of  the  ‘real  things  in  space’  as  objects  of  the 
transcendental  self  and  contrasts  them  with  the  mere  ideas, 
the  ideas  of  empirical  selves.  The  real  things  are,  thus,  ex- 
ternal to  the  empirical  self,  but  they  are  the  ideas,  or  objects, 
of  the  transcendental  self. 

The  pressing  question  of  Kantian  interpretation  is  then 
the  following : what,  concretely,  is  the  self  whose  object  is  no 
mere  percept  or  image,  but  a real  thing,  though  at  the  same 
time  an  idea?  It  is  very  difficult  to  find  Kant’s  answer  to 
this  question.  Berkeley  has  answered  it  by  the  doctrine 
that  it  is  God  whose  object  or  idea  is  the  external  thing. 

1 “ Analytic,”  Bk.  I.,  B,  § 19,  B,  142;  W.,  71-72. 

2 “Refutation  of  Idealism”  of  Edition  B,  B,  275.  For  outline  and  criti- 
cism of  the  arguments  which  Kant  presents,  cf.  Appendix,  pp.  530,  533. 
In  brief,  he  argues  that  consciousness  of  myself  demands  a permanent  in 
perception;  and  that  the  “perception  of  this  permanent  requires  a thing 
outside  me.” 

3 “Dialectic,”  Paralagism  4,  of  Edition  A,  A,  375,  374  et  at. 


The  Critical  Philosophy  of  Kant  233 

Fichte  and  Hegel  are  yet  to  answer  it  by  the  teaching  that  the 
transcendental  self  is  an  absolute,  or  including,  self.  The 
universal  self,  they  hold,  whose  object  is  a real  thing,  must  be 
a self  which  is  greater  than  the  finite  selves,  and  which  in 
some  sense  includes  them.  Thus  interpreted,  the  trans- 
cendental self  is  a more-than-finite  self ; the  empirical  selves 
are  particular,  finite  selves,  related  to  the  including  self  as 
the  momentary  states  to  the  finite,  yet  identical,  self ; and 
real  things,  objects  of  the  transcendental  or  including  self, 
are  in  one  sense  external  to  the  finite  selves,  and  yet  are  known 
by  them  in  so  far  as  they,  the  finite  selves,  share  in  the  con- 
sciousness of  the  greater  self  which  includes  them.1  In  the 
view  of  the  writer,  this  post-Kantian  doctrine  truly  offers  the 
only  answer  to  the  question  which  Kant  himself  has  raised : 
how  account  for  the  existence  of  real  things  distinguished 
from  the  ideas  of  finite  selves?  But  Kant,  though  he  states 
the  problem  and,  indeed,  by  the  distinction  between  greater 
and  lesser  self,  provides  terms  for  this  Hegelian  solution  of  it, 
never  himself  reaches  this  result.  By  transcendental  self 
he  seems  to  mean  not  an  absolute  self  which  includes  finite 
selves  but  any  finite  self  — you,  I,  he,  or  Friedrich  der 
Grosse  — in  its  universalizing  consciousness  of  real  things. 
Thus,  besides  being  a particular  self  and  as  such  possessed  of 
percepts  and  imaginations  of  my  own,  I am  also,  Kant  seems 
to  teach,  a transcendental,  universal  self  which  perceives 
objects  realer  than  those  of  the  particularizing,  momentary, 
empirical  self  — objects  which  are  in  a sense  outside  that 
empirical  self.  Thus,  for  example,  Immanuel  Kant,  as 
empirical  self,  may  stand  at  his  window  imagining  his  lec- 
ture-room and  even  having  his  own  special  percept  of  the 
view  before  him,  but  Kant  as  transcendental  self  is  conscious 
also  of  ‘objects’- — -of  the  real  Konigsberg  street  and  church 
and  Rathhaus;  and  these  objects  might  be  facts  in  the  ex- 
perience of  all  human  beings,  instead  of  being,  like  the  image 

1 For  more  detailed  discussion  of  this  doctrine,  cf.  Chapters  9,  10,  11, 
pp.  321  seq.,  382  seq.,  435  seq. 


234  Attack  upon  Dualism  and  Phenomenalism 

of  the  lecture-room,  an  idea  belonging  to  one  self  only.  In 
a word,  Kant  seems  to  imply  that  the  different  transcenden- 
tal selves  overlap  each  other  — - that  you  and  he  and  I,  as 
conscious  of  the  same  object,  have  somehow  a common  expe- 
rience. He  seems  never  to  realize  that  such  common  experi- 
ence is  impossible  if  there  be  not  an  including  self  — that, 
in  truth,  a universal  self  is  of  necessity  absolute  self. 

b.  The  subject  and  the  object  self 

Besides  the  distinction  between  identical  and  universaliz- 
ing, or  transcendental,  self  and  momentary  and  particular,  or 
empirical,  self  Kant  recognizes  a contrast  between  subject 
self  and  object  self,  a difference  indicated  by  the  words  ‘I’ 
and  ‘me.’  When  I say,  “I  am  conscious  of  myself,”  I 
seem,  at  least,  to  make  a difference  between  the  self  as  sub- 
ject and  the  self  as  object.  Kant  fails  to  observe  that  this 
distinction  is  not  a primary  or  a fundamental  one.  It  seems 
to  arise  through  carrying  back  into  the  domain  of  self-con- 
sciousness the  relation  which  first  exists  between  the  self  and 
the  thing.  “I  know  the  thing”  through  contrasting  it  with 
myself;  and  so,  by  a later  abstraction,  I believe  myself  to 
know  myself  by  distinguishing  a subject  from  an  object  ego. 
Really,  self-consciousness  is  a single  unified  experience,  and 
subject  self  and  object  self  are  ‘poles  within  consciousness.’ 

The  greatest  difficulty  in  Kant’s  exposition  of  the  self  is 
now  the  fact  that  he  sometimes  treats  the  distinction  between 
subject  self  and  object  self  as  if  it  were  identical  with  the 
contrast  between  transcendental  and  empirical  ego:  that  is 
to  say,  he  sometimes  identifies  the  transcendental  with  the 
subject  ego,  and  less  constantly  the  empirical  with  the  object 
ego.1  He  teaches,  in  other  words,  that  the  self  is  knower 
only  and  not  itself  known ; that,  on  the  other  hand,  the  self 
as  known  is  the  lesser,  the  empirical,  self. 

It  will  be  well  to  summarize  the  results,  already  outlined, 

1 Cf.  infra,  pp.  244  seq. 


The  Critical  P hilosophy  of  Kant  235 

of  Kant’s  positive  teaching,  before  going  on,  as  we  must,  to  the 
study  of  his  negative  doctrine.  Kant  started,  it  will  be  re- 
membered, from  the  standpoint  of  the  Wolffian  dualism ; he 
conceived  the  universe  as  consisting  (1)  of  things-in-them- 
selves,  realities  independent  of  consciousness,  substances 
spatially  and  temporally  ordered  and  causally  related,  and 
(2)  of  conscious  minds  which  know  these  things.  This  dual- 
istic  view  may  be  symbolized  thus : — 

The  Universe 


Consciousness 


Things-in-themselves 


But  Kant,  partly  through  the  influence  of  Hume,  little  by  little 
discovered  that  space,  time,  substance,  and  causality  — all 
the  positive  characters  of  the  world  independent  of  conscious- 
ness — really  are  subjective  and  ideal.  Thus  he  taught  that 
known  objects  are  simply  sensations  ‘ordered’  by  certain 
relations.  These  relations,  he  argued  further,  require  and 
imply  the  existence  of  a self.  In  place,  therefore,  of  the  old 
distinction  between  consciousness  and  things,  Kant  now 
recognized  a double  opposition : first,  that  of  ‘self’  to  ‘object’ 
or  ‘thing’  (each  regarded  as  within  the  world  of  conscious- 
ness) ; and  second,  that  of  consciousness,  including  both  self 
and  object,  to  reality-independent-of-consciousness,  that  is, 
to  things-in-themselves.  The  teaching  of  this  stage  of 
Kant ’s  idealism  may  be  represented,  thus : — 

The  Universe 

Consciousness  Things-in-themselves 

Selves  Things 

Kant’s  positive  philosophy  is  thus  the  doctrine  of  the  self 
and  the  known  thing.  But  his  conception  of  the  self  be- 
comes complex.  He  contrasts  (1)  the  self  as  knower,  or  sub- 
ject, with  the  self  as  known,  or  object  (thus  attributing  to 
the  self  the  term,  object,  heretofore  reserved  for  the  thing 
or  the  idea).  He  also  (2)  contrasts  the  self  as  identical  and 


236  Attack  upon  Dualism  aud  Phenomenalism 

universalizing  with  the  self  as  momentary  and  particular 
indicating  the  last  two  distinctions  by  one  pair  of  terms, 
transcendental  and  empirical.  Corresponding  with  this  com- 
plexity of  the  self,  Kant  recognizes  a distinction  in  the  class 
of  known  objects  according  as  they  are  ideas  of  the  self  as 
transcendental,  or  of  the  self  as  empirical.  These  distinctions 
are  included  in  the  following  rough  summary,  but  it  is  not 
possible  to  indicate,  by  the  summary,  the  relations  between 
self  and  thing,  subject  and  object,  namely,  that  the  tran- 
scendental self  is  knower  both  of  the  empirical,  or  evanes- 
cent, self,  and  of  its  own  categorized  sense  objects,  the 
‘things  outside  me’;  and  that  the  empirical  self  may  be 
regarded  as  conscious  both  of  itself  and  of  its  ideas : — 

The  Universe 

Consciousness  Things-in-themselves 


Selves  Objects 

Subject-self  : Object-self  : 

Transcen-  Things  outside  me 

dental 

Empirical  Empirical  Particular  ideas 

C.  Kant’s  Negative  Teaching  That  Ultimate 
Reality  is  Unknown 

From  this  summary  of  Kant’s  positive  teaching,  it  is 
necessary  now  to  turn  to  the  negative  doctrine  on  which  he 
seems  to  lay  equal  stress.  He  teaches  unambiguously  that 
not  only  a world  of  things  independent  of  consciousness,  but 
also  the  transcendental  self  and  God  are  unknown.  These 
teachings  must  be  separately  summarized  and  estimated. 

I.  The  Doctrine  of  Things-in-themselves  as 
Unknown 

From  the  earliest  years  of  his  teaching  to  the  very  end 
Kant  clings  to  the  belief,  in  which  he  has  been  bred,  that  there 


The  Critical  Philosophy  of  Kant  237 

exists  a world  of  realities  independent  of  and  unaffected  by 
our  consciousness  of  them.  He  diverges,  however,  from  the 
traditional  doctrine  in  insisting  that  we  cannot  know  these 
objects-as-they-really-are,  the  things  in  themselves.  “Not 
the  slightest  statement,”  he  says,  “is  to  be  made  a priori 
concerning  the  thing  in  itself  which  may  lie  at  the  basis  of 
. . . phenomena.”  1 This  doctrine  involves  a conception  of 
the  nature  of  things-in- themselves,  an  argument  for  their 
existence,  and  a proof  that  they  are  unknown. 

Three  essential  aspects  must  be  emphasized  of  the  things- 
in-themselves  as  Kant  conceives  them.  They  are,  first,  by 
hypothesis,  independent  of  consciousness,  other  than  con- 
sciousness, and  out  of  relation  with  it.  This  is  the  force  of 
the  predicate  ‘ in  themselves  ’ — which  indicates  the  self- 
sufficiency,  the  utter  independence,  of  these  non-mental 
realities.  The  things  in  themselves  are  regarded,  in  the 
second  place,  as  ultimately  real.2  The  objects  of  experience, 
the  objects  which  turn  out  to  be  the  ideas  of  a mind,  are 
called  phenomena  — that  is,  appearances  — in  contrast  with 
them.  And  because  of  their  supposedly  superior  reality  it 
seems  to  Kant  a serious  loss  not  to  know  the  things-in- 
themselves.  Finally,  the  things-in-themselves,  as  conceived 
by  Kant,  lack  all  characters  save  that  of  mere  existence. 
Space  and  time,  substantiality  and  causality,  attributed  by 
Wolff  to  the  reality  independent  of  consciousness,  have  been 
regained  by  Kant  for  the  objects  of  experience ; the  alleged 
world  of  things-in-themselves  is  thus  despoiled  of  all  positive 
characters. 

The  discovery  that  the  things-in-themselves  are  thus  empty 

1 “General  Remarks,”  A,  49 ; B,  66,  § 8, 1.,  end. 

2 In  the  sense  of  ‘ reality  as  opposed  to  appearance  ’ the  term  ‘ thing-in- 
itself’  has  been  retained  by  philosophers  who  deny  utterly  the  existence  of 
reality  independent  of  consciousness  — by  Schopenhauer,  who  applies  it  to 
the  Will,  by  Clifford  who  applies  it  to  the  momentary  feeling,  and  by  Strong 
who  differs  from  Kant  mainly  in  insisting  on  the  mental,  though  entirely 
unperceived,  nature  of  the  things-in-themselves.  (Cf.  citations  on  p.  185, 
and  cf.  M.  Prince,  “The  Nature  of  Mind,”  Chapters  III.-IV.) 


238  Attack  upon  Dualism  and  Phenomenalism 


of  positive  reality  raises  the  question : Why  does  Kant  hold 
so  unswervingly  to  the  bare  and  useless  existence  of  them? 
The  truth  seems  to  be  that,  on  the  basis  of  the  dualism  in 
which  he  has  been  bred,  he  simply  takes  for  granted,  without 
argument,  that  things-in-themselves  exist.  The  only  argu- 
ments which  he  suggests  are  the  following : He  says,  to  be- 
gin with,  that  in  order  that  there  may  be  appearances,  there 
must  be  something  real  of  which  they  are  the  appearances.1 
He  suggests,  in  the  second  place,  that  sensations,  since  they 
are  arbitrary,  must  be  caused  by  things  independent  of  us.2 
The  truth,  however,  is,  as  has  been  said,  that  Kant  assumes 
and  hardly  attempts  to  argue  the  existence  of  these  things-in- 
themselves. 

Kant’s  teaching  that  the  things-in-themselves,  thus  con- 
ceived and  argued,  are  unknown  is  most  vigorously  stated  in 
his  section  on  “ Phenomena  and  Noumcna.”3  It  begins  with 
a forcible  metaphor.  “We  have  now,”  Kant  says,  “travelled 
through  the  land  of  pure  understanding.  But  this  land  is  an 
island  and  is  confined,  by  nature  herself,  within  unchange- 
able bounds.  It  is  the  land  of  truth  (an  alluring  name), 
surrounded  by  a wide  and  stormy  sea,  the  very  domain  of  il- 
lusion, where  many  a fog-bank  and  many  an  iceberg,  soon  to 
melt  away,  falsely  suggest  new  lands.  . . . But  before  we 
venture  out  on  this  sea  ...  it  will  be  wise  to  cast  a glance 
upon  the  map  of  the  land  which  we  are  ready  to  abandon,  and 
first  to  ask  whether  we  might  not  be  content  with  what  it  con- 
tains — whether  in  fact  we  must  not  be  content  with  this  land, 
if  there  be  nowhere  else  a footing.”  It  at  once  appears  that 
spite  of  the  existence  of  the  sea  of  unexperienced  reality  we 
must  indeed  be  content  with  this  island  of  experience,  for  — 
dropping  his  metaphor  — Kant  argues,  as  he  has  so  often 

1 A,  250. 

2 It  is  not  certain  that  this  teaching  is  intended  by  Kant.  It  is  sug- 
gested in  the  “Aesthetic,”  Sec.  r.,  A,  19,  B,  33,  and  more  definitely  in  his 
“ Prolegomena.”  (Cf.  note  on  p.  240,  infra.)  For  refutation  of  such  an 
argument,  cf.  especially  chap.  4,  on  Berkeley,  pp.  128  seq. 

3 “Analytic,”  A,  235  seq.;  B,  294  seq.;  W.,  129  seq. 


The  Critical  Philosophy  of  Kant  239 

argued,  that  our  knowledge  is  by  its  constitution  incapable 
of  apprehending  ultimate  reality.  The  reason  which  Kant 
assigns  for  this  restriction  of  knowledge  to  the  world  of 
appearance  is,  briefly,  the  following:  that  our  knowledge 
always  includes  sensation,1  and  that  sense  knowledge  can- 
not reach  (what  it  none  the  less  implies)  ultimate  reality. 

This  teaching  is  reiterated  throughout  the  “Kritik.”  One 
whole  section,  ostensibly  devoted  to  the  discussion  of  the 
categories  of  modality,2  is  really  given  over  to  the  teaching 
that  what  is  ‘ actual  ’ is  always,  for  us,  sensational.  And  the 
section  now  under  consideration  says  emphatically:  “The 
understanding  can  never  overstep  the  limits  of  sense;”3 
“only  through  its  sense  condition  can  a category  have  a 
definite  meaning  . . . for  a category  can  contain  only  a 
logical  function  . . . through  which  alone  [without  sense 
consciousness]  nothing  can  be  known.”  4 And  because  of 
this  inevitable  sense  factor  in  knowledge,  the  mind,  so  Kant 
teaches  in  the  second  place,  should  never  “make  a tran- 
scendental use”  of  any  of  its  concepts,  that  is,  it  should 
never  “apply  its  concepts  to  things-in-themselves.” 5 It 
follows  that  Kant’s  gallant  rescue  of  the  categories  — the 
unsensational  factors  of  experience  — from  Hume’s  attack 
has  not,  in  his  own  opinion,  any  bearing  on  the  problem  of 
the  knowableness  of  reality.  According  to  Wolff  relational 
or  thought  consciousness  guarantees  the  independent  reality 
of  its  object,  whereas  sense  consciousness  is,  in  its  nature, 
illusory.  But  Kant  points  out  that  thought  is  always  mixed 
with  sense,  that  our  knowledge  always  has  the  sensational 
taint ; and,  accepting  Wolff’s  doctrine  that  the  object  of 
sense  is  mere  phenomenon,  he  concludes  that  the  reality 
independent  of  our  consciousness  is  unknown. 

1 Cf.  p.  254  for  reference  to  Kant’s  doctrine  that  knowledge  might  be 
purely  intellectual. 

2 A,  218  seq.;  B,  265  seq.;  W.,  122  seq.  3 A,  247;  B,  303;  W.,  131. 

4 A,  244-245.  Cf.  A,  254;  B,  309;  W.,  131-132. 

6 A,  238;  B,  297-298;  W.,  1293. 


240  Attack  upon  Dualism  and  Phenomenalism 

This  brief  exposition  of  the  doctrine  of  the  unknown  things 
in-themselves  must  be  supplemented  by  an  estimate  of  it 
From  the  start,  suspicion  has  attached  to  it,  for  it  has  been 
discovered  that  Kant  himself  does  not  consistently  hold  it. 
The  things-in-themselves  belong,  by  his  definition,  to  reality 
independent  of  consciousness;  and  such  reality  cannot  be 
known  because  the  categories  cannot  be  applied  to  it.  Yet 
Kant  conceives  it  sometimes  as  ‘things,’  sometimes  as  ‘ob- 
ject’— thus  implying  either  its  plurality  or  its  unity;  and 
he  speaks  of  it  either  as  actual,  or  at  least  as  possible,  thus 
applying  some  one  of  his  categories  of  modality.  More  than 
once  also  he  treats  this  independent  reality  as  causally  re- 
lated to  sense  experience  : thus  he  says,1  “The  word  ‘appear- 
ance’ . . . indicates  a relation  to  something  . . . which 
must  exist  in  itself,  that  is  to  an  object  independent  of  sense.” 
And  in  another  passage  he  refers  to  a “transcendental 
object  which  is  the  cause  of  the  phenomenon.”  2 Truth  to 
tell,  this  inconsistency  is  rooted  deep  in  a fundamental  diffi- 
culty of  the  thing-in-itself  doctrine.  Things-in-themselves 
are,  by  hypothesis,  independent  of  consciousness,  yet  they 
must  be  talked  about  and  thought  about  if  they  are  to  be 
inferred  as  existing.  They  are  drawn,  thus,  into  the  domain 
of  the  self,  they  become  objects  of  consciousness,  no  longer 
independent  realities.3 

The  self-contradiction  of  Kant’s  teaching  that  things-in- 
themselves  must  exist  is  thus  so  evident  that  the  comments  on 
his  specific  arguments  may  without  harm  be  abbreviated. 

1 A,  252;  cf.  249-250. 

2 A,  288;  B,  344;  cf.  for  even  more  explicit  statement,  Kant’s  “Prole- 
gomena,” § 13,  Remark  II. ; “ I admit  . . . that  there  exist  outside  us  bodies, 
that  is,  things  which  though  ...  in  themselves  altogether  unknown  to  us, 
we  know  through  the  ideas  which  their  influence  upon  our  sensibility  sup- 
plies. ” (Note,  however,  that  the  “ Prolegomena”  was  written  in  a mood  of 
exaggerated  opposition  to  idealism.  Cf.  Appendix,  p.  510.) 

3 Cf.  Berkeley’s  virtual  proof  of  this  in  his  arguments  against  the  existence 
of  matter  conceived  as  unknown  {supra,  pp.  131  seq.)  and  Hegel’s  discussion 
of  the  same  hypothesis  in  his  chapters  on  “Essence”  and  “Appearance” 
{infra,  pp.  365  seq.). 


The  Critical  Philosophy  of  Kant  241 

In  support  of  the  existence  of  things-in-themselves,  he  first 
argues,  it  will  be  remembered,  that  they  must  exist  to 
cause  sensations.  But  this  implies,  what  Kant  denies,  that 
they  are  categorized  objects.  Another  argument  for  the 
existence  of  things-in-themselves  is  by  the  assertion  that 
mere  phenomena,  or  manifestations,  require  a something 
to  manifest,  a reality  of  which  they  are  appearance.  Upon 
this  reasoning,  two  criticisms  may  be  made.  On  the  one 
hand,  the  argument  is  illicit,  for  it  applies  a category,  that  of 
substance,  to  the  things-in-themselves,  which,  by  hypothesis, 
are  uncategorized;  in  the  second  place,  the  argument  is 
insufficient,  for  it  proves  only  the  existence  of  some  reality 
more  ultimate  than  phenomena,  and  leaves  open  the  possi- 
bility that  this  more  ultimate  reality  is  no  thing,  but  a self. 

Kant’s  proof  that  things  are  unknown  may  be  even  more 
briefly  treated.  It  rests  on  the  two  propositions : that 
knowledge  involves  sensation,  and  that  the  object  of  sen- 
sational consciousness  is,  ipso  facto,  unreal.  Both  proposi- 
tions are  mere  assumptions;  and  for  the  second,  no  proof 
can  be  found.1  As  a whole,  then,  Kant’s  thing-in-itself  doc- 
trine breaks  under  its  own  weight.  He  has  not  proved  that 
things-in-themselves  if  they  exist  are  unknown;  he  has  not 
proved  that  they  exist ; and  — most  important  of  all  — he 
has  not  even  a right  to  the  bare  conception  of  them,  since  it 
involves  him  in  a logical  contradiction. 

II.  Kant’s  Doctrine  of  the  Real  Self  as  Unknown 

To  the  world  of  ultimate  reality  which  Kant  contrasts  with 
that  of  appearances  or  phenomena,  there  may  belong,  he 
teaches,  not  merely  things-in-themselves,  that  is,  realities 
independent  of  consciousness,  but  also  real,  or  transcendental, 
selves.2  These  selves,  he  adds,  like  the  things-in-themselves, 

1 Cf.  supra , p.  239. 

2 This  conception  of  the  selves  as  like  the  things-in-themselves  in  being 
possessed  of  ultimate  reality  is  an  advance  on  Kant’s  earlier,  Wolffian  view 
(cf.  p.  199). 


242  Attack  upon  Dualism  and  Phenomenalism 

must  be  unknown.  This  assertion  that  the  real  or  transcen- 
dental selves  are  unknown  is,  it  must  be  observed,  more  im- 
portant than  the  parallel  teaching  about  things-in-themselves. 
For  by  the  teaching  that  beyond  the  domain  of  self  and  its 
object  there  exist  realities  which  may  not  be  known,  Kant 
simply  indicates  that  the  world  of  selves  and  their  objects  is 
a part  only  of  reality.  But  by  the  doctrine  that  the  tran- 
scendental ego,  the  real  self,  the  permanent  I,  is  unknown, 
Kant  narrows  the  world  of  the  known,  subtracting  from  it 
the  only  ultimate  realities  which  it  contains. 

Kant  does  not,  it  will  be  observed,  deny  the  existence  of  the 
transcendental  selves  (or  self),  nor  does  he,  like  Hume,  deny 
the  possibility  of  self-knowledge.  But  he  insists  that  only 
the  empirical,  the  lesser  and  fragmentary  self,  can  be  known ; 
teaching  that  the  true  self,  though  unquestionably  existing, 
cannot  constitute  an  object  of  knowledge.  It  is  true,  he 
admits,  that  we  infer  its  existence  as  the  necessary  unifier  of 
experience,  but  the  only  self  which  we  ever  catch,  so  to 
speak,  the  only  describable,  known  self,  is  just  a sum  of  per- 
cepts, feelings,  and  memories  — a momentary,  particular, 
empirical  ego.  In  Kant’s  own  words : “ I,  as  intelligence  and 
thinking  subject,  know  myself  as  thought  object,  . . . not 
as  I am  . . . but  as  I appear  to  myself.”  1 More  un- 
equivocally: “I  am  conscious  of  myself  ...  in  the  syn- 
thetic, original  unity  of  apperception,  not  as  I appear  to 
myself,  nor  as  I am  in  myself : [I  am  conscious]  only  that  I 
am.”  2 

This  doctrine,  it  is  obvious,  is  of  grave  import,  for  it  takes 
away  our  knowledge  of  the  only  significant  self  — the  only 
self  which  has  permanence,  the  only  self  to  which  moral 
worth  or  immortality  might  be  attributed.3  The  known, 
empirical  self  reduces,  indeed,  to  an  ego  closely  resembling 

1 B,  “Analytic,”  § 24,  155  end:  §§  24  and  25  taken  together  contain  the 
most  detailed  formulation  of  this  argument. 

2B,  § 25,  157. 

3 Cf.  note  on  p.  266,  infra. 


The  Critical  P hilosophy  of  Kant  243 

Hume’s  mere  bundle  of  perceptions.  The  heavy  conse- 
quences, thus  foreshadowed,  of  this  doctrine,  predispose  one 
to  a critical  examination  of  Kant’s  arguments  for  it.  These 
are  two.  The  first  is  derived  from  Kant’s  conception  of 
knowledge  and  from  his  conception  of  the  nature  of  the 
transcendental  self.  On  the  one  hand,  he  teaches  (1)  that 
all  knowledge  must  include  sensation;  yet  (2)  that  knowl- 
edge, just  because  it  contains  sensation,  is  incapable  of  attain- 
ing unphenomenal  reality.  And,  on  the  other  hand,  he  teaches 
that  the  transcendental  self  is  a categorizing,  unifying  self, 
not  a complex  of  sensations ; and  that  it  is  therefore  a more- 
than-phenomenal  reality.  It  follows  that  the  self,  just  be- 
cause it  is  the  deepest  kind  of  reality,  cannot  be  known,  since 
knowledge  includes  sensation  and  since  sensation  cannot 
reach  the  non-phenomenal.  This  means  that  all  objects  of 
knowledge  — including  even  the  self -as-known  — must  be 
phenomenal  objects,  that  is,  mere  appearances,  in  compari- 
son with  the  realities  independent  of  consciousness.  In 
Kant’s  own  words : “the  consciousness  of  oneself  is  far  from 
being  a knowledge  of  oneself.  . . . Just  as  I need  for  the 
knowledge  of  an  object  distinct  from  me  not  merely  thought 
. . . but  also  a perception,  ...  so  also  I need  for  the 
knowledge  of  myself  . . . besides  the  fact  that  I think 
myself,  a perception  also  of  the  manifold  within  me.” 1 

Before  going  on  to  outline  Kant’s  second  argument  for 
the  unknowableness  of  the  transcendental  ego,  it  will  be  well 
to  estimate  the  value  of  the  first.  The  implicit  assumptions 
of  this  argument  have  been  enumerated;  and  a brief  con- 
sideration will  make  clear  that,  while  several  of  them  may  be 
admitted,  one  at  least  will  be  sharply  challenged.  It  may  be 
admitted,  in  the  first  place,  that  the  transcendental  self  is  a 
more-than-fragmentary  and  an  ultimate  reality.2  It  is  also 

1 B,  § 25,  158. 

2 Yet  this  admission  is,  on  Kant’s  part,  inconsistent  with  the  doctrine  that 
the  deepest,  the  ultimate,  reality  is  independent  of  consciousness.  Cf. 
pp.  236  seq. 


244  Attack  upon  Dualism  and  Phenomenalism 

true  that  we  have  always  found  not  merely  what  we  call  our 
knowledge  but  all  our  consciousness  to  contain  sensations; 
in  other  words,  we  have  never  found  ourselves  conscious 
without  at  the  same  time  seeing  or  hearing,  smelling  or  tast- 
ing or  feeling  (singly  or  together).  To  be  sure,  the  sen- 
sational factor  of  our  experience  often  is  unemphasized  and 
unattended  to,  but  — as  far  as  our  past  and  present  experi- 
ence goes  — it  is  always  present.  But  this  fact  offers  no 
warrant  for  Kant’s  conclusion  that  because  our  knowledge 
is,  in  this  meaning,  sensational,  therefore  it  may  not  have  as 
object  any  ultimate  reality.  Of  course  it  is  true  that  my 
consciousness  of  myself  is  much  more  than  sensational  (and 
this  is  doubtless  the  foundation  of  Kant’s  doctrine) ; but  this 
fact  does  not  hinder  my  being  both  sensationally  conscious 
and  conscious  of  myself.  The  two  experiences  are  not  irrec- 
oncilable ; the  sensations  are  either  coincident  with  the  self- 
consciousness  or  even  unemphasized  parts  of  it.  When 
Dante,  for  example,  first  saw  Beatrice  he  was  conscious  of 
her  red  robe,  but  the  presence  of  the  sensational  conscious- 
ness did  not  prevent  his  soul  meeting  hers  — in  a word,  did 
not  affect  Dante’s  knowledge  of  Beatrice.  Thus,  to  reca- 
pitulate, Kant’s  first  argument  to  prove  the  transcendental 
self  unknowable  is  invalid  mainly  because  it  argues,  without 
adequate  foundation,  that  where  sensation  is  there  ultimate 
reality  is  not. 

Kant’s  second  argument  for  the  doctrine  that  the  tran- 
scendental self  is  unknown,  is  formulated  in  a later  part  of  the 
‘Kritik.”1  In  brief,  this  argument  is  the  following : Knowl- 
edge involves  the  distinction  between  subject  and  object,  that 
is,  between  the  ‘I’  and  the  ‘me’;  but  if  the  transcendental 
self  were  known,  it  would  itself  be  both  subject  and  object, 
both  ‘I’  and  ‘ myself’ ; and  this  is  impossible,  for  so  the  neces- 
sary distinction  between  subject  and  object  would  be  lost. 

1 “Dialectic,”  Paralogisms  of  Edition  B (B,  404;  W.,  148).  Here 
Kant  also  argues,  very  successfully,  that  the  soul,  if  distinguished  in  Locke’s 
fashion  from  the  self,  must  be  unknown. 


The  Critical  P hilosophy  of  Kant  245 

Kant  sees  in  this  contradiction  a support  for  his  doctrine  that 
the  transcendental  self  is  pure  subject,  or  knower,  without 
being  object,  or  known.  “Through  this  I or  He  or  It  (the 
thing)  which  thinks,  nothing  except  a transcendental  subject 
of  thoughts  is  represented  ( vorgestellt ),  = X,  ...  of  which, 
in  abstraction,  we  can  have  no  slightest  idea.  (About  this  I 
we  revolve  in  an  inconvenient  circle  since  we  must  have  a 
consciousness  (V orstellung)  of  it  to  come  to  any  conclusion 
about  it.)”  Twenty-five  years  later,  Herbart  restated  just 
this  difficulty  in  great  detail.  “Who,  or  what,”  he  asks, 
“is  the  object  of  self-consciousness?  The  answer  must  be 
. . . ‘The  I is  conscious  of  Itself.’  This  itself  is  the  I itself. 
One  may  then  substitute  this  concept  of  the  I,  and  then  the 
first  proposition  will  be  transformed  into  the  following : 
‘The  I is  conscious  of  itself  as  being  conscious  of  itself.’ 
Let  the  same  substitution  be  repeated,  and  there  results: 
‘The  I is  conscious  of  that  which  is  conscious  of  that  which 
is  conscious  of  itself.’  . . . This  circle  will  run  on  forever 
. . . and  it  follows  that  the  question  is  unanswerable  and 
that  the  I is  a never  complete  but  always  to-be-completed 
problem.”  1 

It  has  already  been  shown  that  Kant’s  solution  of  the 
difficulty  consists  in  assuming  that  the  necessary  distinc- 
tion between  subject  and  object  self  is  obtained  by  regard- 
ing the  subject  self  as  transcendental,  or  identical  and  uni- 
versal, and  the  object  self  as  empirical,  or  changing  and 
particularizing.  The  self  which  I know  is  always,  in  other 
words,  the  self  of  the  moment,  the  way-I-feel  or  imagine  or 
decide  at  this  particular  moment ; and  I do  not  know,  I am 
merely  conscious,  of  the  identical,  universalizing  I,  which 
knows,  but  is  not  known,  which  is  subject,  not  object.  It 
must  at  once  be  admitted  that  this  doctrine  meets  the  diffi- 
culty which  was  stated.  As  Kant  says,  both  the  suggested 
conditions  of  self-knowledge  are,  in  this  way,  fulfilled : self 


1 “Psychologie  als  Wissenschaft,”  § 27. 


246  Attack  upon  Dualism  and  Phenomenalism 

knows  self  and  yet  there  is  a distinction  between  self  as 
knower  (the  transcendental  self)  and  self  as  known  (the 
empirical  self).1  Yet  this  conception  of  the  transcendental 
self  as  knower  and  not  known  has  its  own  insuperable 
difficulty ; it  is  clearly  self-contradictory.  In  the  very  act  of 
saying  that  the  transcendental  self  is  knower,  not  known, 
subject,  not  object,  Kant  admits  the  necessary  existence 
of  such  a self;  and  anything  which  must  be  said  to  exist  is 
surely  known  — at  least  as  existing.  Kant’s  doctrine  that 
the  transcendental  self  exists  implies,  therefore,  the  admis- 
sion that  it  is  known. 

So  Kant  is  left  with  the  alleged  contradiction  of  self- 
consciousness,  subject-objectivity,  on  his  hands.  He  has 
brought  the  contradiction  forward  as  proof  of  his  doctrine 
that  the  transcendental  self  is  subject  only,  never  object  or 
known ; but  it  appears  that  an  existent,  transcendental,  self 
must  be,  to  some  degree,  a known  self.  If  then  a self  is 
necessarily  conceived  as  known  self,  and  if  the  conception  of 
a known  self  involves  hopeless  contradiction,  Kant’s  whole 
doctrine  of  the  transcendental  self  is  endangered.  In  this 
extremity,  the  critic  of  Kant  may  point  out  that  the  diffi- 
culty which  this  discredited  conception  was  framed  to  meet 
is  itself  artificial,  in  other  words,  that  self-consciousness  is  not 
in  its  essential  meaning  subject-objectivity.  Our  awareness 
of  self  is  in  truth  a fundamental  experience,  a primarily 
immediate  certainty,  and  it  is  but  inadequately  expressed  in 
terms  of  the  later  and  more  artificial  opposition  of  object  and 
subject  — a distinction  borrowed  from  the  contrast  of  self 
with  external  things.  There  is  thus  no  need  of  proving  that 
I know  a transcendental,  that  is,  a universalizing  and  an 

1 It  should  be  observed  that  this  difficulty  would  be  as  well  met  in  the 
opposite  way;  that  is,  if  the  empirical  self  were  conceived  as  subject,  or 
knower,  and  the  transcendental  self  as  object.  The  considerations  just 
summarized  in  the  first  argument  for  the  unknowableness  of  the  self  ( supra 
pp.  243  seq.)  prevent  Kant  from  reaching  this  conclusion.  Either  hypothe- 
sis, as  this  page  tries  to  show,  is  at  best  an  artificial  and  unnecessary  attempt 
to  meet  an  imaginary  difficulty. 


The  Critical  P hilosophy  of  Kant  247 


identical  self,  for  I am  immediately  aware  of  such  a self ; 
and  the  opposition  of  object  to  subject  self  is  an  addition 
of  later  reflection.  This  refutation  of  the  last  of  Kant’s 
arguments  for  the  unknowableness  of  the  transcendental 
self  sends  us  back  with  renewed  confidence  to  his  own 
arguments  for  the  existence  of  this  self,  and  restores  to  his  ' 
universe  of  reality  the  significant  figure  which  he  himself 
has  tried  to  banish. 

III.  Kant’s  Doctrine  of  God  as  Unknown 

By  his  doctrine  that  only  sense  objects  and  empirical  (or 
changing)  selves  can  be  known  Kant  has  implicitly  taught 
the  impossibility  of  knowing  God.  In  the  first  section  of 
the  “Dialectic,”  however,  he  argues  explicitly  that  the 
existence  of  God  cannot  be  proved.  By  God,  he  says,  is 
meant  a being  which  “ includes  all  reality  in  itself,”  a ‘su- 
preme being’  to  whom  “everything  is  subject.”  The  unknow- 
ability  of  God,  thus  conceived,  is  argued  by  Kant  through  a 
destructive  criticism  of  the  three  traditional  arguments  for  the 
existence  of  God.1  Of  these  the  first  is  the  ontological  proof.2 
Kant  states  it  in  the  form  in  which  Anselm  held  it : “The  real- 
est  of  all  beings  contains  all  reality;  and  one  is  justified  in 
assuming  that  such  a being  is  possible.  . . . But  existence  is 
included  in  all  reality : therefore  existence  belongs  to  the  con- 
cept of  a possible  being.  If,  now,  this  thing  does  not  exist,  the 
inner  possibility  of  it  is  denied,  and  this  denial  is  a contradic- 
tion.” 3 More  simply : The  concept  of  an  absolutely  real  being, 

1 Cf.  Chapter  2,  pp.  25  seq.  and  Chapter  4,  pp.  100  seq.  for  discussion  of 
Descartes’s  and  of  Leibniz’s  forms  of  these  proofs. 

2 In  the  chapters  to  which  reference  has  just  been  made  it  has  been  pointed 
out  that  the  term  ‘ ontological’  may  be  applied,  as  by  Hegel,  to  a wider  argu- 
ment for  the  existence  of  God.  Hegel’s  objection  to  Kant’s  criticism  of  the 
ontological  argument  consists  essentially  in  the  contention  that  the  argu- 
ment should  be  stated  in  this  larger  fashion,  hence  the  objection  does  not 
materially  affect  Kant’s  criticism  of  the  old  form  of  the  argument. 

3 A,  596;  B,  624;  W.,  207. 


248  Attack  upon  Dualism  and  Phenomenalism 


that  is  God,  is  possible.  But  absolute  reality  includes  existence. 
Therefore  the  absolutely  real  being  must  be  conceived  as 
existing.  Therefore,  finally,  he  does  exist.  Kant  makes 
short  and  easy  work  of  this  argument.  It  depends,  as  he 
shows,  on  the  false  supposition  that  ‘conceived1 2  existence’ 
and  ‘real  existence’  are  synonymous.  As  a matter  of  fact, 
not  everything  which  is  conceived  is  real.  To  be  conscious 
of  one  hundred  thaler  is  surely  not  the  same  as  to  possess  the 
hundred  thaler : in  other  words,  one  may  be  conscious  of  the 
existent,  and  yet  that-which-is-thought-of-as-existing  does 
not  necessarily  exist.  Thus,  the  fact  of  our  representing  to 
ourselves  an  all-perfect  being  is  not  any  guarantee  for  such  a 
1 :~g’s  existence. 


he  cosmological  is  the  causal  argument  for  God’s  exist- 
Kant  states  it  very  clearly,  in  the  passage  which 
ionows:  “If  anything  exists,”  he  says,  “an  absolutely  neces- 
sary Being  must  exist,  . . . [for]  every  contingent  thing 
must  have  its  cause,  and  this  cause  — if  contingent  — must 
have  its  cause  till  the  series  of  subordinate  causes  end  in  an 
absolutely  necessary  cause,  without  which  the  series  would 
have  no  completeness.  . . . Now,  at  least  I myself  exist, 
therefore  an  absolutely  necessary  being  exists.”  3 

The  argument  is  familiar,  for  Descartes,  Leibniz,  Berkeley, 
and  even  Hobbes  have  employed  it.  It  is  based  on  two  prin- 
ciples: the  first  expressed  in  the  proposition,  “Every  limited 
or  contingent  reality  must  have  a cause the  second  formu- 
lated in  the  statement,  “Every  limited  reality  must  have,  not 
merely  a partial,  but  a completely  explanatory,  an  ultimate 

1 Observe  that  ‘conceived’  here  means  merely  ‘conscious-ed,’  ‘reflected 
on.’ 

2 The  argument  is  contained  in  two  portions  of  the  last  division,  the 
“Dialectic,”  of  the  “Kritik”:  most  appropriately  in  Bk.  II.,  Chapter  3,  on 
the  “Transcendental  Ideal,”  but  also  in  Chapter  2,  third  and  fourth  An- 
tinomies. Cf.  Adickes,  notes  to  his  edition  of  the  “Kritik,”  pp.  461,  491. 

“Dialectic,  Transcendental  Ideal,”  A,  604  or  B,  632,  with  note;  W., 
21 1.  Cf.  the  theses  of  the  third  and  fourth  Antinomies,  taken  together, 
A,  443  seq.,  452  seq.;  B,  472  seq.,  480  seq.;  W.,  162-166. 


The  Critical  Philosophy  of  Kant  249 

cause.”  To  the  first  of  these  principles  Kant,  as  we  know, 
assents,  teaching  unequivocally  that  everything  or  — to  be 
more  exact  — every  event  has  a cause.1  But  the  universality 
of  this  causal  principle  does  not,  Kant  insists,  imply  an 
ultimate  cause.  All  that  it  requires  is  that  the  causal  series 
of  contingent  beings  never  at  any  particular  point  came  to 
an  end  — in  other  words,  that  every  contingent  cause,  however 
far  back  in  the  series,  should  itself  have  a cause.  But  Kant 
is  not  content  with  arguing  that  the  first  and  incontrovertible 
causal  principle  does  not  imply  the  second  — - that  is  to  say, 
that  the  universality  of  the  causal  relation  does  not  imply 
the  existence  of  an  ultimate  cause.  In  addition,  he  directly 
opposes  the  second  of  the  principles,  on  which  the  cosmologi- 
cal or  causal  argument  for  God’s  existence  rests,  by  the  teach- 
ing that  a cause  must  be  contingent  and  that  an  ultimate,  or 
necessary,  being  cannot,  Jtherefore,  be  a cause.  For  cause,  he 
points  out,  is  precisely  that  which  stands  in  necessary  relation 
both  to  its  effect  and  to  its  own  cause  as  well.  That  is  to 
say,  the  supposedly  ultimate  being,  if  it  were  a cause,  would 
need  to  have  a cause;  and  so  would  cease  being  ultimate. 
In  Kant’s  own  words:  “Every  beginning  presupposes  a 
state  of  . . . its  cause.  But  a . . . first  beginning  would 
presuppose  a state  which  had  no  causal  relation  with  a pre- 
ceding cause.”  2 The  ordinary  way  of  meeting  this  difficulty 
is  by  the  teaching  that  the  supreme  being,  as  necessary,  is 
not  subject  to  the  law  of  contingent  causality.  But  this 
ejection  of  the  ultimate  cause  from  the  series  of  contingent 
phenomena  destroys  the  whole  cosmological  argument,  for 


1 Cf.  p.  212. 

2 “Antinomy  III.,  Antithesis,  Proof,”  paragraph  r,  A,  445;  B,  473; 
W.,  163,  a free  rendering.  It  is  evident  that  Kant  here  uses  ‘cause’  in  the 
Humian  sense  as  belonging  to  time.  The  cosmological  argument,  as  has 
before  been  observed,  really  confuses  this  temporal  conception  of  cause  (im- 
plied in  the  expression,  First  Cause)  with  the  other  view  of  cause  as  explana- 
tion or  ground  (implied  in  the  expression,  Ultimate  or  Necessary  Cause). 
Cf.  supra , p.  103.  Kant  uses  the  term  ‘ cause  ’ in  this  second  sense,  but  applies 
it  only  to  the  moral  self.  Cf.  infra,  pp.  259  seq. 


250  Attack  tip  on  Dualism  and  Phenomenalism 

that  infers  the  existence  of  God  precisely  as  the  highest  term 
of  the  series  of  the  contingent.  “Were  the  highest  being,” 
Kant  repeats,  “to  remain  in  the  chain  of  conditions,”  it 
would  itself  be  a member  of  the  series;  and  like  the  lower 
members  of  which  it  is  the  presupposition,  there  would  be 
need  of  investigating  its  higher  ground.  If,  on  the  other 
hand,  he  adds,  “the  highest  being  be  separated  from  this 
chain ; and  if  — by  virtue  of  being  a merely  intelligible 
being  — it  be  not  conceived  in  the  series  of  nature  causes: 
what  bridge  can  reason  build  in  order  to  reach  the  nature 
series  [i.e.  in  order  to  connect  the  alleged  necessary  cause  with 
the  contingent  things  which  it  is  inferred  to  explain]?”  1 
Besides  showing  in  this  fashion  that  the  cosmological 
argument  is  invalid,  Kant  points  out 2 that  it  is  incomplete. 
It  attempts  to  prove  only  the  existence  of  an  ultimate  cause 
and  — in  this  respect  inferior  to  the  ontological  argument  — 
“it  cannot  teach  what  sort  of  attributes  the  necessary  being 
has.”  The  last  of  the  traditional  arguments  for  God’s 
existence  arises  to  supplement  the  causal  argument  in  this 
particular.  It  is  known  to  Kant  as  the  physico-theological 
argument,  but  is  more  commonly  known  as  the  teleological 
argument,  or  the  argument  from  design.  Toward  this  reason- 
ing Kant  has  a temperamental  regard,  due  to  his  interest 
in  natural  science;  for  the  physico-theological  argument 
finds  in  the  order  and  majesty  of  nature  a reason  for  inferring 
the  existence  of  an  absolutely  necessary,  an  all-perfect 
creator.  Kant  states  the  argument  thus: 3 “(1)  In  the  world 
are  found  everywhere  clear  tokens  of  an  order  which  follows 
a definite  purpose ; and  this  purpose  is  carried  out  with 
great  wisdom  and  in  a whole  of  indescribable  manifoldness. 
. . . (2)  This  purposed  order  is  utterly  foreign  to  the  things 
in  the  world  and  belongs  to  them  only  accidentally,  that 
is  to  say,  . . . different  things  could  not  . . . unite  to 

1 A,  621 ; B,  649. 

2 A,  606  seg.;  B,  634  seq.;  W.,  212  seq. 

3 A,  625  (cf.  622);  B,  653  (cf.  650);  W.,  219. 


The  Critical  Philosophy  of  Kant 


251 


definite  ends  . . . were  they  not  chosen  and  disposed 
through  an  ordering,  reasoning  principle.  (3)  Therefore, 
there  exists  a sublime  and  wise  cause  (or  several  of  them)  — - 
which  as  intelligence  and  freedom  must  be  cause  of  the 
world.”  . . . “This  proof,”  Kant  says,  “deserves  ever  to 
be  named  with  respect.  It  is  the  oldest,  the  clearest  proof  — - 
and  most  suited  to  ordinary  human  reason.  It  vivifies  the 
study  of  nature  — and  itself  has  its  source  and  the  renewal 
of  its  strength  through  nature  study.  It  supplies  purposes 
and  aims  where  our  observation  had  not  of  itself  discovered 
them  and  widens  our  knowledge  of  nature  through  the  guid- 
ing thread  of  a special  unity.”  1 

Yet  though  the  reasonableness  and  the  utility  of  the  argu- 
ment appeal  to  Kant  so  strongly  that  they  rouse  him  to  one 
of  his  rare  enthusiasms,  he  none  the  less  insists  that  this 
method  of  proof  carries  with  it  no  absolute  certainty.  For 
the  argument  is,  after  all  is  said,  an  argument  from  the 
nature  of  an  effect  — the  well-ordered  world  — to  a cause. 
In  other  words,  this  argument  from  design  is  a case  under 
the  cosmological  argument,2  and  since  it  has  been  proved 
unjustifiable  to  reason  from  any  effect  to  the  existence  of  a 
‘necessary  cause,’  any  particular  case  of  this  reasoning  must 
be  discredited.  And  even  if  one  had  already  granted  the 
existence  of  a first  cause,  this  effort  to  show  that  the  creator 
is  a free  intelligence  would  fail  of  convincing  force,  since  it 
is  but  an  argument  from  “the  analogy  of  certain  nature 
products  with  that  which  human  art  creates.”  3 Because  a 
human  being  would  need  thought  and  will  in  order  to  create 
objects  comparable  to  the  ‘wonders  of  nature  and  the  majesty 
of  the  world,  ’ we  have,  Kant  argues,  no  right  to  argue  that 
the  unknown  cause  of  nature  is  intellect  and  will.  __  — — 

So  Kant  concludes  his  discussion  of  the  three  traditional 
arguments  for  God’s  existence.  “ Outside  these  three  paths,” 

1 A,  623;  B,  651;  W.,  218.  2 A,  629;  B,  657;  W.,  221. 

3 A,  626;  B,  654. 


252  Attack  tip  on  Dualism  and  Phenomenalism 

he  says,  “no  other  lies  open  to  the  speculative  reason;”  and 
he  questions  “whether  any  proof  be  possible  of  a proposition 
so  sublimely  above  all  empirical  use  of  the  understanding.”  1 
The  reader  of  Kant  will  echo  his  doubt,  if  once  he  admits 
that  these  are  the  only  arguments  for  God’s  existence.  For 
Kant’s  strictures  on  them  surely  are  justified.  From  the 
observation  of  ordered  nature  it  is,  indeed,  impossible  to  argue 
demonstratively  to  the  existence  of  an  infinite  intelligence 
as  its  creator ; no  empirical  argument  can  suffice  to  establish 
the  existence  of  a logical  contradiction,  namely,  a first  cause ; 
and,  finally,  the  mere  consciousness  which  I possess  of  a per- 
fect being,  logically  possible  though  it  is,  cannot  guarantee 
the  existence  of  such  a being.  If  there  be,  then,  no  other 
argument  for  the  existence  of  God,  the  conception  truly  must 
be  viewed  after  Kant’s  fashion,  as  an  ideal  of  the  speculative 
reason.  But  Kant  himself,  as  will  appear  elsewhere,  sug- 
gests — what  later  philosophers  amplify  — another  and,  in 
the  opinion  of  the  writer,  a valid  proof  of  God’s  existence. 
And  in  this  proof,  when  it  shall  disclose  itself,  we  shall  find 
no  negation,  but  rather  a transformation,  of  these  discredited 
arguments.  My  consciousness  will  be  shown  to  imply  the 
existence  of  God  as  its  deepest  reality  (and  this  is  the  soul  of 
the  ontological  argument) ; my  consciousness  will  be  shown, 
furthermore,  to  imply  the  existence  of  God  as  its  explanation 
(and  this  it  is  which  the  causal  argument  has  tried  to  express) , 
finally,  even  the  adaptations  of  nature  may  serve  to  illumi- 
nate our  conception  of  God  (and  thus  the  teleological  argu- 
ment shall  find  its  rightful,  though  subordinate,  place). 

In  conclusion  certain  general  comments  on  Kant’s  nega- 
tive teaching  must  be  made.  It  should  be  noted,  in  the  first 
place,  that  his  three  negative  doctrines  have  a varied  bearing 
on  his  positive  theory.  The  first,  the  doctrine  that  the  things- 
in-themselves  are  unknown,  makes  no  inroad  whatever  on 


1 A,  630;  B,  658;  W.,  221-222. 


The  Critical  P hilosophy  of  Kant  253 

the  world  of  known  reality : its  effect,  if  accepted,  would  be 
merely  to  impress  upon  us  that  there  exists  unknown  reality, 
more  ultimate  than  any  which  we  know.  On  the  other  hand, 
the  doctrine  that  we  may  not  know  either  permanent  selves 
or  God  seriously  narrows  the  supposedly  known  world. 

In  the  second  place,  it  must  be  emphasized  that  Kant 
asserts  the  existence  of  all  three  of  these  unknowns : things- 
in-themselves,  selves,  and  God.  With  reference  to  God 
this  statement  has  later  to  be  proved.  But  it  has  already 
appeared  that  Kant  argues  for  the  existence  of  the  more-than- 
individual  self;  and  every  section  of  the  “Kritik”  bears 
witness  to  his  constant  assumption  that  things-in-them- 
selves  exist.  The  consequences  of  these  admissions  are  else- 
where considered.1 

D.  Kant’s  Correction  of  ms  Negative  Doctrine 

Kant’s  negative  doctrine  of  the  limits  of  knowledge,  his 
teaching  that  the  ultimate  realities  may  not  be  known,  is 
very  variously  estimated  by  different  critics.  To  certain 
students  of  Kant,  for  example,  to  Heine  and  to  Herbert 
Spencer,  the  teaching  that  ultimate  reality  — and,  in  par- 
ticular, God  and  immortal  selves  — are  unknown,  seems  to 
be  the  significant  and  the  final  result  of  Kant’s  teaching. 
The  present  writer,  however,  holds  with  many  other  students 
and  commentators  that  'this  negative  doctrine  of  the  limits 
of  our  knowledge  is  neither  an  essential  nor  a permanently 
significant  teaching  of  Kant.  The  reasons  for  this  con- 
clusion have  been  indicated  in  the  criticism  of  Kant’s  teach- 
ing that  the  transcendental  I is  unknown,  and  that  objective 
reality  independent  of  consciousness  exists.  But  a further 
reason  for  rejecting  Kant’s  negative  doctrine  is  found  in  the 
fact  that  he  himself  corrects  and  thus  virtually  retracts  it, 
by  his  teaching  concerning  the  noumenal  object  and  the 
moral  self.  In  other  words,  though  unquestionably  he 

1 Cf.  pp.  255,  261. 


254  Attack  upon  Dualism  and  Phenomenalism 

teaches  that  ultimate  realities,  whether  things  or  selves,  are 
unknown,  he  none  the  less  suggests  the  possibility  of  known 
things-in-themselves ; and  with  glorious  inconsistency  he  im- 
plies and  even  asserts  that  the  moral  self  is  known.  This 
correction  of  his  metaphysics  by  his  ethics  carries  with  it, 
as  will  appear,  a most  significant  extension  of  his  positive 
philosophy. 

I.  Kant’s  Admission  that  Things-in-themselves  might 
be  known  (the  Hypothesis  of  the  Noumena) 

In  the  very  chapter  on  “ Phenomena  and  Noumena,”  in 
which  Kant  most  definitely  formulates  his  teaching  that  the 
ultimately  real  things-in-themselves  are  unknown,  there  is 
contained  a curious  qualification  of  this  doctrine  of  the  limits 
of  knowledge.  This  corrective  teaching,  ignored  in  the  pre- 
ceding summary  of  the  thing-in-itself  doctrine,  is  as  follows : 
(i)  the  reason  why  things-in-themselves  are  unknown  is  that 
all  our  knowledge  includes  sense;  and  that  sense-conscious- 
ness is  incapable  of  apprehending  reality.  Were  there,  then, 
Kant  says,  an  immediate  knowledge  untainted  by  sense  — 
it  might  know  even  ultimate  realities;  and  these  known 
realities,  or  things-in-themselves,  would  be  noumena  (things 
thought  about).1  Now  (2)  such  unsensuous  knowledge  is, 
Kant  admits,  conceivable.  “The  concept  of  a noumenon, 
that  is,  of  a thing  which  shall  be  thought  wholly  through  a 
pure  understanding,  not  as  an  object  of  the  senses  but  as  a 
thing  in  itself,  is  not  at  all  contradictory:  for  one  surely 
cannot  assume  that  sensibility  is  the  only  possible  form  of 
intuition  ( Anschauung ).”  But,  Kant  adds,  (3)  we  do  not 
possess  this  unsensuous  yet  immediate  knowledge ; our  con- 

1 Kant’s  words  are  these,  “ If  I assume  things  which  are  mere  objects 
of  the  understanding,  and  which  as  such  could  yet  be  presented  to  intuition, 
though  not  to  sense  intuition,  such  things  would  be  called  noumena.”  (A, 
249;  cf.  B,  306  seq.  The  second  edition  lays  more  emphasis  than  the  first 
on  the  problematic  character  of  this  hypothesis.) 


The  Critical  Philosophy  of  Kant  255 

cepts  are  mere  forms  of  thought  for  our  sense  perceptions, 
and,  therefore,  (4)  the  bare  idea  of  noumena,  namely  things- 
in-themselves  as  objects  of  thought,  is  no  guarantee  of  the 
existence  of  these  knowable  things-in-themselves,  but  is  a 
mere  Grenzbegriff, 1 a ‘ limitative  concept  by  which  to  check 
the  presumption  of  the  sense  consciousness.’ 

So  Kant  ends  by  reaffirming  the  doctrine  that  the  ultimately 
real  things  in  themselves  are  unknown.  But  he  has  gone  so 
far  as  to  suggest  that  they  might  be  known  — that  there  is 
nothing  contradictory  in  conceiving  them  as  known.  He 
has  done  more  than  this : he  has  clearly  implied  that  the  ulti- 
mate realities,  if  known,  would  no  longer  be  independent  of 
consciousness.  They  would  be  objects  of  thought,  and 
therefore  related  to  mind ; and  yet  they  would  be  ultimate. 
Thus,  in  two  directions,  by  suggesting  that  ultimate  reality 
might  be  known  and  by  implying  that,  as  known,  it  would 
no  longer  be  independent  of  consciousness,  Kant  has  made, 
by  his  hypothesis  of  the  noumenon,  at  least  a move  toward 
the  correction  of  the  thing-in-itself  doctrine. 

II.  Kant’s  Admissions  that  the  Real  Self  is  Known 

a.  The  teaching  that  I am  ‘ conscious  oj,  the  real 
(1 or  transcendental)  selj 

Far  more  significant  than  this  only  half-serious  suggestion 
that  things-in-themselves  might  be  known,  is  Kant’s  restora- 
tion of  the  real  self  to  the  domain  of  the  known.  It  is  fair  to 
say  that  the  things-in-themselves,  empty  of  all  predicates, 
would  have  been  no  great  loss  to  us ; but  the  denial  of  our 
ability  to  know  selves  deprives  us  of  our  most  valued  cer- 
tainty. With  distinct  relief,  therefore,  a reader  who  takes 
his  Kant  seriously  finds  the  real  self  not  only  restored  to  the 
world  of  known  reality  but  enriched  with  new  and  significant 
character. 

^,255;  B,  310-311;  W.,  132. 


256  Attack  upon  Dualism  and  Phenomenalism 

It  has  been  shown  already,  by  repeated  quotations,1  that 
Kant  admits  the  fact  that  I am  conscious  0}  my  real  self  — 
not  merely  of  the  complex  feeling  of  the  moment,  but  of  my 
underlying,  my  permanent,  my  real  self.  He  has,  it  is  true, 
withheld  the  name  of  ‘ knowledge  ’ from  this  mere  conscious- 
ness of  self ; but  this  doctrine  that  we  do  not  know  a self  of 
which  we  are  and  must  be  conscious  is,  as  has  appeared,  an 
absurdity  due  wholly  to  Kant’s  artificial  and  unjustifiable 
conception  of  knowledge.  He  denies  that  the  consciousness 
of  the  transcendental  self  is  a knowledge  of  it,  purely  because 
he  holds  (1)  that  knowledge  is  sensational,  and  thus  of  the 
momentary,  and  (2)  that  knowledge  involves  an  actual 
opposition  between  subject  and  object.  But  it  can  neither 
be  maintained  that  sensational  knowledge  is  inherently 
illusory,  nor  yet  that  knowledge  requires  an  absolute  subject- 
object  contrast.2  There  is  consequently  no  force  in  Kant’s 
contention  that  the  consciousness  of  self  is  not  a knowledge 
of  self.  It  must  be  true,  on  the  other  hand,  that  the 
consciousness  of  the  transcendental  self  is  the  knowledge  of 
at  least  one  undoubted  and  more-than-momentary  reality. 
But  besides  this  unacknowledged  implication  of  the  known 
self,  the  “Kritik”  contains  Kant’s  definite  teaching  that  the 
moral  self  is  an  object  of  knowledge.  The  consideration  of 
this  teaching  follows. 

b.  Kant's  teaching  that  I know  the  moral  self  as  real 

Up  to  this  point  we  have  concerned  ourselves  exclusively 
with  what  Kant  calls  his  theoretical  philosophy,  and  have 
taken  no  account  of  his  ethical  doctrine.  Kant  himself  in- 
tends to  make  a sharp  distinction  between  metaphysics  and 
ethics,  theoretical  and  moral  philosophy;  but  an  absolute 
line  of  cleavage  is  not  possible.  Ethics,  like  metaphysics, 
involves  a doctrine  of  the  human  self  and  — ■ in  Kant’s  view  — 


1 Cf.  supra , p.  242. 


2 Cf.  supra,  pp.  245  seq. 


The  Critical  Philosophy  of  Kant  257 

a theory,  positive  or  negative,  of  God.  Therefore  ethics 
cannot  be  divorced  from  metaphysics;  and  what  Kant  and 
his  critics  call  his  moral  philosophy  is  really,  in  the  main,  an 
integral  part  of  his  metaphysical  system.1 

The  core  of  Kant’s  ethical  system  is  his  doctrine  of  obli- 
gation ; and  this  doctrine  involves  the  teaching  that  the  real 
self,  as  a moral  self,  is  known.  His  teaching  may  be  sum- 
marized as  follows:  In  the  consciousness  of  obligation,  a 
man  knows  himself,  not  as  mere  phenomenon,  but  as  a reality, 
deeper  than  all  phenomena,  a self  which  is  more  than  a mere 
series  of  temporally  linked  feelings;  in  the  moral  conscious- 
ness, in  a word,  a man  knows  himself  as  absolute  reality. 
Kant’s  meaning  will  become  clearer  by  a closer  scrutiny  of 
his  doctrine  of  obligation.  It  contains  four  main  articles : 
(1)  the  consciousness  or  feeling  of  obligation  is  a fact  of 
our  experience ; (2)  the  feeling  of  obligation  differs  radi- 
cally from  every  sensational  or  affective  experience ; (3)  the 
feeling  of  obligation  cannot  be  accounted  for  by  a preceding 
succession  of  phenomena;  therefore,  (4)  the  consciousness 
of  obligation  implies  the  existence  of  a free,  that  is,  a tran- 
scendental, an  ultimately  real,  self.  These  different  teachings 
must  now  be  repeated  in  Kant’s  own  words. 

(1)  The  consciousness  of  obligation  exists.  I am,  Kant 
says,  ‘immediately  conscious  of  the  moral  law.’2  “How  this 
consciousness  of  moral  laws  is  possible  cannot,”  he  says,3 


1 This  doctrine,  here  outlined,  of  the  nature  of  obligation  and  its  implica- 
tion of  the  free  moral  self  and  of  God  is  found,  it  should  be  noticed,  not  only 
in  Kant’s  ethical  works,  but  in  the  third  and  fourth  Antinomies  of  the 
“ Kritik  of  Pure  Reason.”  Of  the  ethical  works  the  more  important  are 
the  “ Kritik  of  Practical  Reason,”  published  in  1788,  and  the  “ Metaphysik 
of  Morality  ( Grundlegung  zur  Metaphysik  der  Sitten ),”  which  appeared  three 
years  earlier,  and  which  is  sometimes  cited  as  “Metaphysics  of  Ethics.” 

2 “Kritik  of  Practical  Reason,”  Bk.  I.,  Chapter  1,  § 6,  Problem  II., 
Remark,  H.,  31.  (The  page  references,  both  to  the  “ Kritik  of  Practical 
Reason  ” and  to  the  “ Metaphysik  of  Morality,”  are  to  the  Hartenstein  edition 
of  1867);  W.,  p.  268. 

3 Ibid.,  Bk.  I.,  Chapter  1,  I.  “Deduction  of  the  Principles  of  Pure  Prac- 
tical Reason,”  H.,  49. 


258  Attack  upon  Dualism  and  Phenomenalism 

“be  further  explained,”  for  the  feeling  of  obligation  is  “an 
inexplicable  fact.”1  “The  moral  law,”  he  says,  a little 
later,2  — meaning  by  moral  law  the  consciousness  of  obli- 
gation — “is  given  as  a fact  of  pure  reason  of  which  we  are 
a priori  conscious  and  which  is  apodictically  certain.  . . .” 

(2)  The  feeling  of  obligation  differs  absolutely  from  the 
‘desire’  or  the  ‘impulse.’  It  is  a distinct  experience,  a con- 
sciousness sui  generis.  The  ‘I  ought’  feeling,  in  other 
words,  is  not  equivalent  to  the  ‘ I wish  ’ or  to  the  ‘ it  would  be 
pleasanter  — more  expedient  — more  advantageous.’  Kant 
makes  use  of  many  expressions  to  sharpen  this  distinction. 
He  contrasts  the  feeling  of  obligation,  under  the  name  ‘cate- 
gorical imperative,’  with  the  desire,  as  ‘hypothetical  impera- 
tive’ ; 3 and  he  further  distinguishes  the  ‘moral  law’  from  the 
‘subjective  maxim’.  “Obligation,”  Kant  says,  “expresses 
a sort  of  necessity  . . . which  occurs  nowhere  else  in  nature. 
It  is  impossible  that  anything  in  nature  ought  to  be  other  than 
in  fact  it  is.  In  truth,  obligation  — if  one  has  before  one’s 
eyes  only  the  succession  in  nature  — has  simply  and  solely 
no  meaning.  We  can  as  little  ask  what  ought  to  happen  in 
nature  as  what  attributes  a circle  ought  to  have.”  4 

From  the  assertion  of  the  absolute  difference  between  the 
feeling  of  obligation  and  empirical  desires  or  wishes,  Kant 
proceeds  (3)  to  the  doctrine  that  the  feeling  of  obligation  can- 
not be  adequately  explained  as  due  merely  to  preceding  phe- 
nomena of  the  inner  life  or  of  the  outer  world.  The  preceding 
facts  of  our  mental  condition  may  serve  to  explain  for  us  why 
we  wish  such  and  such  an  end,  or  act  in  such  and  such  a way, 
but  they  can  never  explain  our  sense  of  duty.  “There  may 
be,”  he  says,  in  the  paragraph  following  that  last  quoted, 
“never  so  many  nature  causes  or  sensuous  impulses  which 

1 “ Kritik  of  Practical  Reason,”  H.,  46,  W.,  273s.  Cf.  H.,  32,  45;  W., 
a683,  2 7 22. 

2 Ibid.,  p.  50.  Cf.  “Kritik  of  Pure  Reason,”  A,  546-547;  B,  574—575 ; 
W.,  186. 

3 “Metaphysik  of  Morality,”  H.,  263  seq.;  “Kritik  of  Practical  Reason,” 
Bk.  I.,  Chapter  1,  Definition  1,  Remark,  H.,  21;  W.,  2592. 

4 “Kritik  of  Pure  Reason,”  A,  547;  B,  575. 


The  Critical  Philosophy  of  Kant  259 


drive  me  to  volition : they  cannot  create  obligation.”  “The 
objective  reality  of  the  moral  law,”  he  says  elsewhere,1  “can 
be  proved  by  no  ...  a posteriori  deduction,  and  none  the 
less  it  stands  fast  on  its  own  merits  (jiir  sich  selbst).”  “The 
moral  law,”  he  says  again,2  “ is  a fact  absolutely  inexplicable 
by  all  data  of  the  sense  world.” 

(4)  But  just  because  the  feeling  of  obligation  is  inexplicable 
from  the  standpoint  of  temporal  causality,  it  is  seen  inevitably 
to  imply  the  existence  of  a self  which  is  deeper,  realer,  than 
the  phenomena.  The  feeling  of  obligation  is,  in  other  words, 
no  mere  phenomenon,  no  purely  momentary  consciousness. 
It  is  rather  the  expression  of  a self  which  is  conscious  of  obli- 
gation, and  which,  just  because  it  knows  it  ought,  also  knows 
that  it  may.  Thus  the  consciousness  of  obligation  is  “in- 
extricably bound  up  with  the  consciousness  of  the  freedom”  3 
of  the  willing  self.  One  knows  “that  one  can  act  because 
one  is  conscious  that  one  ought,  and  thus  one  knows  in  oneself 
the  freedom  which  — without  the  moral  law  — had  remained 
unknown.” 4 

From  this  ethical  standpoint,  therefore,  Kant  restates  the 
distinction  between  the  empirical  and  the  transcendental  ego, 
as  that  between  the  temporally  caused  and  the  free  self,  or 
as  that  between  the  phenomenally  caused  and  the  intelligibly 
causal  self.  From  the  first,  the  empirical,  point  of  view,  I 
am  the  complex  feeling  of  this  particular  moment,  and  this 
complex  feeling  is  the  result  of  the  inner  feeling  and  of  the 
outer  phenomenon  of  the  preceding  moment : in  a word,  I am 
the  product  of  my  experience  and  of  my  environment.  But, 
regarding  myself  — as  I may  and  must  — - not  merely  as  a 
series  of  conscious  experiences,  but  as  the  self  which  ought 
and  can,  I am  ‘outside  the  series’ 5 of  temporal  feelings. 

1 “Kritik  of  Practical  Reason,”  loc.  cit.,  H.,  50;  W.,  275''. 

2 Ibid.,  H.,  46;  W.,  2732. 

3 Ibid..,  H.,  45,  W.,  272s.  Cf.  below,  pp.  265'*  seq. 

4 Ibid.,  § 6,  Problem  II.,  Remark,  H.,  32. 

6 A,  537;  B,  565;  W.,  184,  “Eine  solche  intelligible  Ursache  . . . ist, 
sammt  ihrer  Kausalitat  ausser  der  Reihe.”  Cf.  A.  493 ; B,  522. 


26 o Attack  upon  Dualism  and  Phenomenalism 


This  means  that  the  self  which,  superficially  regarded,  is  a 


view,  an  active  subject  ( handelndes  Subjekt). 1 The  ‘em- 
pirical character’  is,  in  fact,  — Kant  says,  — ‘the  mere 
manifestation  ( Erscheinung ) of  the  intelligible.’1  2 Thus,  the 
same  action  which  “from  one  point  of  view  is  a pure  nature 
result,”  may  “from  another  standpoint,  be  regarded  as  a 
manifestation  of  freedom.” 3 For  “with  reference  to  the 
intelligible  character  . . . there  is  no  ‘before’  on ‘after,’  and 
every  act,  without  regard  to  its  temporal  relation  to  other 
phenomena,  is  the  immediate  working  of  tne  intelligible 
character  . . . which  consequently  acts  freely  without  being 
dynamically  determined  in  the  chain  of  nature  causes,  either 
through  external  or  internal  antecedent  grounds.”  4 

The  teaching  about  the  real  self  of  the  ethical  experience 
is  well  summarized  in  the  following  statement:5  “Man  is 
one  of  the  phenomena  of  the  sense  world,  and  he,  too,  is  in 
so  far  one  of  the  nature  causes  whose  causality  must  stand 
under  empirical  laws.  As  such,  he  must  have  an  empirical 
character.  . . . But  man,  who  knows  all  the  rest  of  nature 
only  through  sense,  knows  ( erkennt ) himself  also  through 
mere  apperception 6 — and  indeed  in  activities  and  inner  de- 
terminations which  he  cannot  count  among  sense  impressions 
He  is  certainly,  therefore,  on  the  one  hand,  phenomenon  t< 
himself,  but  on  the  other  hand  — in  consideration  of  a certaii 


1 A,  539;  B,  567.  Cf.  “Kritikof  Practical  Reason,”  loc.  cit.,  II.,  H.,  59 
W.,  279. 

2 A,  541;  B,  569. 

3 A,  543;  B,  571;  W.,  184. 

4 A,  553;  B,  581.  In  the  paragraph  from  which  the  first  quotation  o 

p.  260  is  made  Kant  contradicts  himself  by  saying  that  the  intelligibli 
character  “begins”  the  series  of  its  phenomenal  manifestations.  This  is 
of  course,  to  let  the  intelligible  self  fall  back  into  the  temporal  world  of  thi 
phenomenal  self  from  which  it  has  been  rescued. 

6 A,  546;  B,  574;  W.,  185-186. 

6 Note  that  this  bare  statement  is  made  without  specific  application  t< 
the  moral  consciousness,  though  the  context  certainly  refers  to  the  mora 
experience. 


series  of  facts  of  consciousness  is,  from  a deeper  point  of 


The  Critical  Philosophy  of  Kant  261 

capacity  — he  is  a purely  intelligible  object.”  The  last  words 
of  the  quotation  show  unequivocally  that  Kant  regards  the 
moral  self  both  as  known  self  and  as  absolute  reality  — yes, 
as  ‘thing-in-itself.’  For  this  exact  expression,  heretofore 
reserved  by  Kant  to  describe  the  ultimate  reality  independent 
of  consciousness,  is  applied  in  these  sections  to  self  in  its 
moral  activity.  ‘Intelligible  causality’ 1 is  designated  as  the 
activity  of  a ‘thing-in-itself’;  and  later  the  ‘intelligible 
character,’  that  is  the  character  of  the  moral  self,  is  explicitly 
called  ‘the  character  of  the  thing-in-itself.’ 

The  comparison  of  these  conclusions  with  the  negative 
results  of  Kant’s  philosophy  leads  almost  inevitably  to  a 
reconstruction.  Kant  has  argued,  before  he  comes  to  the 
consideration  of  the  moral  experience,  that  the  true  or  tran- 
scendental self  is  unknowable,  and  that  beyond  the  reach  of 
knowledge  lie  certain  unattainable  realities.  In  the  course 
of  his  argument  he  has,  it  is  true,  been  guilty  of  extreme  in- 
consistency; he  has  really  implied  that  the  transcendental 
self  is  known  and  that  the  ultimate  realities  are  objects 
within,  and  not  beyond,  consciousness.  Yet  he  has  clung 
persistently  to  the  existence  of  the  unknowable  world  beyond 
experience.  Now,  in  the  study  of  the  moral  consciousness, 
Kant  suddenly  discovers  that  here,  at  least,  in  the  conscious- 
ness of  duty  and  the  knowledge  of  freedom,  the  true  self  comes 
to  know  itself.  And  this  true  self  — no  mere  series  of  events 
dependent  one  on  another  — is,  Kant  sees,  an  ultimate  reality. 
But  if  both  assertions  be  admitted,  if  the  self  is  an  ultimate 
reality  and  if  this  reality  can  be  known,  then  it  is  no  longer 
possible  to  hold  that  ultimate  reality  is,  of  necessity,  beyond 
our  knowledge.  On  the  other  hand,  it  becomes  probable  that 
ultimate  reality  will  turn  out  to  be  a self  or  a related  system 
of  selves.  Kant  himself  implies,  though  he  does  not  prove, 

1 A,  538 ; B,  566.  Here  Kant  expressly  uses  the  term  ‘ causality  ’ in  a non- 
Humian  sense.  The  intelligible  cause  is  indeed  expressly  opposed  to  the 
phenomenal  cause,  the  temporal  event.  It  is  cause  in  the  sense  of  being  ulti- 
mate reality,  or  ground. 


262  Attack  upon  Dualism  and  Phenomenalism 


the  truth  of  this  Berkeley-like  hypothesis  by  the  further 
teachings  of  his  ethics. 


c.  Kant's  teaching  that  the  Jree,  moral  self  must  be  mem- 
ber of  a society  of  blessed  and  immortal  selves 

Kant’s  starting-point,  as  has  been  shown,  is  the  immediate 
certainty  of  a feeling  of  obligation  distinct  from  desire.  The 
impossibility  of  deriving  this  from  temporal  or  empirical 
causes  has  led  him,  in  the  first  place,  to  insist  on  the  exist- 
ence of  a self  deeper  than  phenomena.  In  the  second  place, 
the  fact  that  no  empirical  derivation  of  the  feeling  of  obliga- 
tion can  be  found  has  convinced  Kant  of  its  validity.  The 
foundation  of  the  greater  part  of  the  positive  philosophy, 
constructed  by  Kant  from  the  ethical  standpoint,  is  therefore, 
as  should  be  noted,  not  the  initial  assertion  of  the  bare  exist- 
ence of  a feeling  of  obligation,  but  the  later  inference  of  its 
validity.  Or  — to  state  this  differently  — Kant  believes,  not 
merely  in  the  feeling,  but  in  the  fact,  of  obligation ; not  merely 
that  there  is  a feeling  of  obligation,  but  also  that  there  is 
obligation,  independently  of  the  purely  individual  admission 
of  it.  The  existence  of  the  feeling  of  obligation  must  imply, 
Kant  teaches,  the  existence  of  a more-than-phenomenal  self. 
The  validity  of  the  feeling  of  obligation  — the  existence,  in 
other  words,  of  obligation  — implies,  Kant  goes  on  to  show, 
the  freedom,  the  blessedness,  and  the  immortality  of  selves 
who  are  members  of  a kingdom  of  related  selves. 

This  acknowledgment  that  the  world  of  the  moral  self  is 
a social  world  of  interrelated  individuals  is  made  by  reason 
of  Kant’s  study  of  what  he  calls  the  content  of  the  moral  law. 
A consideration  of  his  specifically  ethical  doctrine  is,  therefore, 
necessary,  as  a means  to  the  understanding  of  his  doctrine 
of  the  ultimately  real  and  related  selves.  After  Kant  has  estab- 
lished the  existence  of  obligation,  and  after  he  has  taught  that 
a self  is  free  to  do  what  it  ought,  the  question  arises : what 
then,  ought  I,  the  moral  self,  to  do?  What,  definitely,  is  my 


! 


The  Critical  Philosophy  of  Kant  263 

duty?  In  what  terms  is  the  ‘ categorical  imperative’  expressed  ? 
Now  Kant  adopts,  at  different  times,  two  attitudes,  which  he 
does  not  clearly  differentiate,  toward  this  problem.  When  he 
is  chiefly  concerned  to  establish  the  utter  distinctness  of  the 
ought-feeling  from  desire,  he  defines  the  object  of  obligation 
in  almost  negative  terms.  The  object  of  desire  is  the  pleas- 
urable, but  the  feeling  of  obligation  is  utterly  opposed  to 
desire ; hence  — Kant  teaches  — that  which  one  ought  to 
do  cannot  be  pleasurable.  “The  pure  idea  of  duty”  must 
be  “unmixed  with  any  foreign  ingredient  of  sensuous  desire.”  1 2 
Furthermore,  because  the  object  of  desire  is  always  some 
definite  object,  and  because  obligation  is  opposed  to  desire, 
therefore  — so  Kant  teaches,  in  this  phase  of  his  ethical 
doctrine  — obligation  has  no  definite  object.  “The  single 
principle  of  morality,”  he  says,  “consists  in  independence  of 
all  matter  of  the  law  — that  is,  of  every  object  of  desire,  and 
in  the  determination  of  the  Will  ( Willkuhr ),  by  the  mere 
universal  form  of  law  ( gesetzgebende  Form).'1'1 2 This  means 
that  the  fundamental  principle  of  duty,  the  basal  formula- 
tion of  the  moral  law,  is  simply  this : Do  whatever  you  are 
conscious  that  you  ought  to  do.  Whether  or  not  you  can 
formulate  your  duty  beforehand,  whether  or  not  you  can 
a priori  define  that  which  is  right  — so  much  is  certain : you 
ought  at  any  time  to  do  that  which  you  think  that  you  ought. 

Empty  as  it  is,  this  mere  ‘form  of  a law’  does  supply  a 
principle  for  moral  action.  Critics  of  Kant  have,  however, 
rightly  laid  stress  on  the  unsatisfactoriness  of  this  purely 
formal  law,  and  have  claimed,  with  reason,  that  a system  of 
‘absolute’  ethics  should  define  a specific  object  of  obligation 

1 “ Metaphysik  of  Morality,”  H.,  258;  W.,  233.  It  should  be  observed 
that  Kant  sometimes  recognizes  {ibid.,  245;  W.,  227)  that  the  object  of 
acknowledged  duty  may  be  coincident  with  desire  — in  a word,  that  one  may 
like  to  do  what  one  consciously  ought  to  do. 

2 “Kritik  of  Practical  Reason,”  Bk.  I.,  Chapter  1,  § 8,  H.  35;  W.,  2701. 
Cf.  §§  3-6.  Cf.  a statement  with  a parallel  meaning:  “The  moral  law  must 
alone  determine  the  pure  will,  and  its  sole  object  is  to  produce  such  a will.” 
{Ibid.,  Bk.  II.,  Chapter  1,  H.,  114;  W.,  2911.  The  translation  is  Watson’s.) 


264  Attack  upon  Dualism  and  Phenomenalism 


in  order  to  justify  the  validity  of  obligation.1  As  a matter  of 
fact,  Kant  does  elsewhere  suggest  a positive  content  for  the 
moral  law,  a positive  definition  of  duty.  This  is  the  second 
form  of  Kant’s  ethical  doctrine.  In  brief,  he  teaches  that 
the  object  of  obligation  is  the  good  of  humanity;  and  by  this 
teaching  he,  of  course,  implies  the  existence  of  a society  of 
selves.  This  positive  form  of  Kant’s  moral  doctrine  is  well 
summarized  in  the  “Metaphysik  of  Morality,”  by  the  two 
successive  statements  of  the  moral  law,  or  imperative.2  The 
first  of  these  is  the  following:  “Act  in  conformity  with  that 
maxim  . . . only,  which  thou  canst  . . . will  to  be  a univer- 
sal law.”  3 And  by  this  Kant  means:  a right  action  is  an 
action  which  every  man  might  repeat  without  thereby  injur- 
ing society.4  The  positive  content  of  the  moral  law,  thus 
formulated,  is  evidently,  then,  the  preservation  of  a society 
of  related  selves.  This  is  more  clearly  indicated  in  the 
second  statement  of  the  ‘practical  imperative,’  which,  though 
it  still  leaves  undefined  the  nature  of  the  personal  end,  yet 
unambiguously  conceives  of  this  end  as  social,  never  purely 
individual.  This  second  and  more  concrete  form  of  the 
practical  imperative  is  the  following:  “Act  so  as  to  use 
humanity  both  in  thine  own  person  and  in  the  person  of 
another,  always  as  an  end,  never  merely  as  a means.”5 6 
Kant’s  meaning  is  that  the  moral  action  no  longer  regards 
the  desires  and  needs  of  the  individual,  except  as  the  indi- 
vidual belongs  to  the  related  whole  of  selves  which  he 


1 See  Kant’s  express  admission  of  this,  “ Metaphysik  of  Morality,  ” H. 
76;  W.,  245. 

2 The  third  formulation  of  this  ‘law’  is  merely  a repetition  of  the  first. 

3 “Metaphysik  of  Morality,”  H.,  269;  W.,  241.  Cf.  “Kritik  of  Practical 

Reason,”  loc.  cit .,  § 7,  H.,  32 ; W.,  268. 

* Kant’s  illustrations  make  this  very  clear : My  individual  wish  is  to  in- 
crease my  fortune  in  every  possible  way.  A trust  fund  is  left  in  my  hands  by 
a friend  who  dies  without  leaving  a will.  To  appropriate  this  money  may 
be  in  accord  with  my  individual  advantage,  but  cannot  possibly  be  in  accord 
with  the  moral  law,  for  if  every  one  betrayed  his  trust,  there  would  be  no 
trust  funds  — in  other  words,  social  honor  and  union  would  be  impaired. 

6 “Metaphysik  of  Morality,”  H.,  277;  W.,  246. 


The  Critical  Philosophy  of  Kant  265 


calls  ‘humanity  ( Menschheit ),’  and  describes  as  1 ‘a  kingdom 
— the  systematic  union  of  different  reasoning  beings  through 
common  laws.’ 

It  should  be  added  in  qualification  of  the  social  nature  of 
this  ideal  that,  in  Kant’s  view,  the  “ universal  system  of  laws,” 
to  which  each  member  of  society  is  subject,  are  “laws  which 
he  imposes  upon  himself  and  ...  he  is  only  under  obliga- 
tion to  act  in  conformity  with  his  own  will.”  2 This  teach- 
ing is  of  great  significance.  For  to  say  that  the  common 
laws  of  society  are  laws  self-imposed  by  the  individual  is 
simply  to  say  that  the  individual  is  of  necessity  a social  self 
constituted  by  its  relations  to  others,  so  that  the  existence  of 
one  individual  presupposes  the  existence  of  related  indi- 
viduals.3 At  this  second  point,  therefore,  Kant’s  study  of 
the  moral  consciousness  leads  him  to  widen  his  conception  of 
reality.  He  has  already  seen  that  the  moral  consciousness 
implies  the  existence  of  the  more-than-phenomenal  self;  he 
now  discovers  that  the  validity  of  the  moral  consciousness, 
the  fact  of  obligation,  requires  him  to  conceive  of  this  self 
as  no  isolated  individual,  but  as  a related  self,  a member  of 
humanity,  a citizen  of  the  kingdom  of  rational  human 
beings. 

To  these  interrelated  moral  selves,  Kant  attributes  three 
chief  characters,  freedom,  immortality,  and  blessedness. 
These  must  be  further  discussed. 

(1)  It  has  been  shown  already  (by  quotations  from  both 
“Kritiks”),  that  Kant  teaches  the  freedom  of  the  self;  it 
must  now  be  pointed  out  that  he  seems  to  use  this  term  in 
at  least  two  ways.  On  the  one  hand,  he  shows  that  in  the 
consciousness  of  obligation  one  is  aware  of  a self  which  is 
deeper  than  any  series  of  feelings  and  which  is,  therefore, 
ontologically  free  — in  other  words,  free  from,  or  inde- 

1 Ibid.,  H.,  281 ; W.,  248. 

2 Ibid.,  H.,  280;  W.,  247.  Watson’s  translation. 

8 Cf.  the  writer’s  “An  Introduction  to  Psychology,”  pp.  152  seq. 


266  Attack  upon  Dualism  and  P Phenomenalism 


pendent  of,  the  laws  of  phenomenal  relation.1  It  is  a 
moot  point  whether  Kant  believes  in  'freedom’  in  a second, 
the  merely  ethical  sense,  that  is  to  say,  whether  he  teaches 
that  the  moral  self  has  the  choice  between  good  and  ill.  In 
the  opinion  of  the  present  writer,  Kant  does,  in  certain 
passages,  unequivocally  teach  that  the  fact  of  obligation 
implies  that  the  moral  man  ‘is  free’  to  do  good  or  ill.  This 
is  the  most  obvious  meaning  of  the  passage,  already  quoted,2 
“Man  affirms  that  he  can  because  he  is  conscious  that  he 
ought;”  it  is  still  more  plainly  implied  in  the  well-known 
words  “Du  kannst  denn  du  sollst.”  The  implication  of  these 
statements  certainly  seems  to  be:  obligation  is  impossible 
unless  there  be  responsibility  — a power  to  act  in  one  way 
or  in  the  other.  Kant’s  occasional  references  to  a will 
which  is  ' not  good  ’ 3 — or  to  a will  ‘ influenced  by  sensuous 
desires’ 4 — imply  even  more  clearly  that  the  real  self,  the 
unphenomenal  self,  has  the  ‘freedom’  to  be  good  or  bad.5 

To  sum  up : Kant  teaches  that  the  individual  selves  in 
the  kingdom  of  selves  are  free,  in  the  sense  of  being  selves, 
not  mere  complexes  of  ideas,  and  that  this  is  implied  by  the 
mere  consciousness  of  obligation.  At  times,  also,  Kant 
seems  to  teach  that  the  fact  of  obligation  implies  the  ethical 
freedom  of  these  individuals  to  work  good  or  ill. 

(2)  The  immortality  of  human  selves,  Kant  teaches,  is  a 
second  implication  of  the  fact  of  obligation.  For  the  very 


1 “ Kritik  of  Pure  Reason,”  A,  538  seq.;  B,  566  seq.;  W,  184  seq. ; 
“Kritik  of  Practical  Reason,”  Bk.  I.,  H.,  45  seq.;  W,  272  seq.;  “Meta- 
physik  of  Morality,”  § III.,  H.,  294  seq.;  W,  250. 

2 Cf.  supra,  p.  2592. 

3 “Metaphysik  of  Morality,”  § I.,  H.,  241:  W,  223. 

4 7 bid.,  Ill,  H,  302;  W,  255. 

6 This  doctrine  seems  to  be  contradicted  by  other  passages  which  teach, 
apparently,  that  the  free  self  always  acts  in  accordance  with  the  moral  law, 
and  that  the  actions  of  the  evil  self  belong  to  the  world  of  phenomena,  as 
distinct  from  that  of  the  noumenal  self.  (Cf.  “ Metaphysik  of  Morality,” 
III,  H,  301 ; W,  254.)  Such  a view,  however,  is  certainly  in  opposition  tci 
•Kant’s  fundamental  doctrine  that  a given  act  may  be  viewed  both  as  phe- 
nomenal and  as  expression  of  a real  self. 


The  Critical  Philosophy  of  Kant  267 

first  requirement  of  the  moral  law  is  complete  conformity 
with  the  law,  action  in  accordance  with  the  feeling  of  obli- 
gation. Now  this  “complete  conformity  ...  to  the  moral 
law,”  Kant  says,  “is  holiness,  a perfection  of  which  no 
rational  being  of  the  sense  world  is  capable  at  any 
point  of  time  of  his  existence.  Since,  however,  holiness  is 
demanded  as  practically  necessary,  it  can  be  found  only  in 
an  infinite  progress  toward  that  full  conformity;  and  . . . 
it  is  necessary  to  assume  such  practical  advance  as  the 
real  object  of  our  will.” 1 Thus  Kant  teaches  the  ne- 
cessity of  immortality  as  requisite  to  the  fulfilment  of 
obligation. 

The  conception  is  certainly  invigorating.  Is  it,  however, 
logically  necessary?  The  question  which  at  once  suggests 
itself  is  this : Does  Kant  here  contradict  his  own  concep- 
tion of  the  moral  self  as  out  of  the  temporal  series,2  by 
the  suggestion  that  it  fails  of  its  aim  at  a particular  mo- 
ment? To  this  it  may  be  replied  that  according  to  Kant, 
every  action  is  part  of  a temporal  series  as  well  as  a mani- 
festation of  the  timeless  self.  Now  it  is  only  of  the  temporal 
self  that  one  may  say:  it  must  be  immortal  as  surely  as  it 
has  obligation,  or  duties.  For  duties  must  be  capable  of 
fulfilment  and  cannot  be  fulfilled  in  a finite  time.3  Thus 
the  self  which,  as  timeless,  is  eternal  is,  as  temporal,  moral 
self,  immortal. 

(3)  Still  another  implication  of  duty  — or  obligation  — is 
named  by  Kant  in  a section  preceding  that  just  summarized.4 
Kant  calls  it  the  implication  of  a ‘highest  good.’  The 

1 “Kritik  of  Practical  Reason,”  Bk.  II.,  Chapter  2,  IV.,  H.  128;  W., 
294.  Cf.  on  immortality,  Kant’s  “Traume  eines  Geisterseher’s,”  2*"  Theil, 
3“'  Hauptstiick,  end;  infra,  Chapter  XI.,  pp.  453  seq. 

1 Cf.  supra,  p.  259s. 

3 Of  course  it  must  on  no  account  be  forgotten  that  Kant  teaches  that 
God  would  see  ‘in  the  series’  or  indefinite  progress  of  the  individual,  a 
whole  that  is  in  harmony  with  the  moral  law.  (“  Kritik  of  Practical  Reason,” 
Bk.  II.,  Chapter  2,  IV.,  H.,  129;  W.,  295.) 

* Ibid.,  loc.  cit.,  Chapter  2,  and  I.  and  II.,  H.,  116  seq.;  W.,  291  seq. 


268  Attack  upon  Dualism  and  Phenomenalism 

existence  of  the  highest  good  follows,  Kant  says,  from 
the  fact  of  obligation,  simply  and  precisely  because  the 
‘highest  good’  is  the  object  of  obligation,  the  content  of  the 
moral  law.  “The  highest  good,”  he  says,  “is  necessarily 
the  supreme  end  of  a morally  determined  will.”1  “We  ought,” 
he  says  later,  “to  seek  to  further  the  highest  good  — ■ and  the 
highest  good  must  certainly,  therefore,  be  possible.”  2 

Kant  thus  attains  a further  definition  of  the  object  of  duty. 
As  conceived  in  the  “Metaphysik  of  Morality”  the  object  of 
the  moral  law  is  regarded,  first,  as  conformity  with  conscious- 
ness of  obligation  (whatever  its  content)  — a state  to  which 
the  argument  for  immortality  seems  to  refer  as  ‘holiness’; 
and  is,  second,  defined  simply  and  vaguely  as  the  end  shared 
by  humanity,  the  kingdom  of  selves  related  by  common  laws. 
In  the  section  now  considered  Kant  goes  farther  and  describes 
duty  as  the  obligation  to  attain  the  highest  good.  Now  the 
highest  good,  Kant  teaches,  must  be  both  supreme  and  com- 
plete. The  supreme  good  is  evidently  virtue,  or  holiness,  the 
conformity  with  the  sense  of  duty.  As  complete,  however, 
the  highest  good  must  include  not  merely  virtue,  but  happi- 
ness also.  “Virtue  ...  is  the  supreme  3 good.  . . . But 
it  is  not,  for  that  reason,  the  whole  and  complete  good,  as 
object  of  the  desire  of  rational,  finite  beings.  The  complete 
good  demands  happiness  also  — and  that  not  only  to  the 
prejudiced  view  of  the  person  who  makes  an  end  of  himself, 
but  in  the  judgment  of  unprejudiced  reason  which  regards 
happiness  in  the  world  as  an  end  in  itself.  For  if  we  imagine 
. . . a reasonable  and  at  the  same  time  all-powerful  being, 
it  cannot  accord  with  the  complete  will  of  such  a being  that 
there  should  be  those  who  are  in  need  of  happiness  and  are 
worthy  of  it  yet  who  do  not  possess  it.”  Such  happiness. 
Kant  insists,  in  the  effort  to  coordinate  this  teaching  with  the 
earlier  sections  of  the  “ Kritik,”  though  it  is  part  of  the  object 

1 “ Kritik  of  Practical  Reason,”  Bk.  II.,  Chapter  2,  IV.,  H.,  1212;  W.,  294. 

2 Ibid.,  Bk.  I.,  Chapter  2,  V.,  H.,  131;  W.,  2962. 

3 Ibid.,  Bk.  II.,  Chapter  2,  H.,  116;  W.,  291-292. 


The  Critical  Philosophy  of  Kant  269 

of  duty,  is  not  its  determining  motive  or  Bestimmungsgrund. 
For  only  the  moral  law,  the  obligation  to  be  true  to  one’s 
sense  of  obligation,  can  determine  the  truly  moral  will.1 
Reflection  upon  the  tendency  of  moral  actions  and  upon  the 
explanation  of  the  sense  of  obligation  does,  it  is  true,  lead  to 
the  conclusion  that  the  object  of  the  moral  consciousness,  the 
ideal  whose  existence  it  implies,  is  the ‘highest  good.’  But 
every  single  moral  act  follows  upon  consciousness  of  obliga- 
tion, not  upon  a calculation  of  the  ‘ highest  good.’ 

But  this  reasoning,  spite  of  its  guarded  outcome,  is  even 
less  cogent  than  the  argument  for  immortality.  For  Kant 
urges  the  existence  of  the  highest  good  only  by  an  appeal  to 
what  he  calls  unprejudiced  reason,  and  has  no  weapon  with 
which  to  meet  the  opponent  who  should  challenge  his  con- 
viction. The  failure  of  this  argument,  as  will  appear,  in- 
validates Kant’s  practical  proof  of  the  existence  of  God. 

III.  Kant’s  Teaching  that  the  Existence  of  God 

IS  POSTULATED  BY  THE  MORAL  CONSCIOUSNESS 

The  search  for  the  implication  of  the  moral  consciousness 
not  only  leads  Kant  to  the  doctrine  that  a society  of  free  and 
immortal  and  finally  blessed  selves  exists,  but  assures  him 
also  of  the  existence  of  God.  Kant  argues  that  God  must 
exist  in  order  that  the  highest  good  be  possible  — that  is,  in 
order  that  happiness  should  follow  upon  virtue.  A finite 
moral  being  cannot  order  events  so  as  to  secure  happiness, 
therefore  God  must  exist  to  supply  that  happiness  which 
is  a factor  in  the  ‘highest  good.’  All  this  is  very  clearly  and 
simply  stated  by  Kant : “ It  has  been  admitted  that  it  is  our 
duty  to  promote  the  highest  good,  and  hence  it  is  not  only 
allowable,  but  it  is  even  a necessity  demanded  by  duty,  that 
we  should  presuppose  the  possibility  of  this  highest  good. 
And  as  this  possibility  can  be  presupposed  only  on  the  con- 
dition that  God  exists,  the  presupposition  of  the  highest 

1 “ Kritik  of  Practical  Reason,”  Bk.  II.,  Chapter  i,  H.,  114,  W.,  2911. 


2 jo  Attack  upon  Dualism  and  Phenomenalism 

good  is  inseparably  bound  up  with  duty,  that  is,  it  is  morally 
necessary  to  hold  to  the  existence  of  God.”  1 

There  is  certainly  nothing  more  surprising  in  all  that  Kant 
has  written,  nothing  more  inconsistent  with  his  rigorous 
temperament  and  his  severe  outlook  upon  life,  than  this  argu- 
ment for  a God  who  is  needed  in  order  to  give  mere  happiness. 
The  argument,  as  has  been  shown,  depends  upon  the  pre- 
ceding demonstration  that  happiness  must  coexist  with 
virtue.  And  since  this  last  assertion  was  unproved,  the  ‘ prac- 
tical argument’  for  God’s  existence  goes  with  it.  Yet  the 
failure  of  this  argument  is  no  disproof  of  the  wider  proposi- 
tion that  the  facts  of  the  moral  life  demand  God’s  existence. 
Fichte,  and  especially  Hegel,  later  take  up  Kant’s  argument 
at  this  point  and  argue  that  a moral  self  and  — the  more 
surely  — that  a kingdom  of  related  moral  selves  presuppose 
the  existence  of  an  all-including  self  who  is  himself  the 
highest  good,  to  share  whose  reality  is  immortality  and  life. 

In  conclusion  there  is  need  to  remind  ourselves  that  Kant 
makes  a curious  and  — as  will  be  argued  — an  unwarranted 
distinction  between  the  assurance  based  on  the  facts  of  moral 
experience  and  that  which  has  what  he  calls  a ‘theoretical’ 
basis.  The  latter  alone  he  names  ‘knowledge,’  whereas 
assurance  of  the  former  kind  he  calls  postulate  or  faith.2 
For  to  Kant  knowledge  always  includes  sense  perception; 
and,  therefore,  the  awareness  of  self,  of  friend,  of  God,  must 
needs  bear  another  name.  “Through  practical  reason,”  he 
says,  “we  know  neither  the  nature  of  our  soul,  nor  the  in- 
telligible world,  nor  God  as  they  are  in  themselves.  We  have 
only  the  conceptions  of  them  united  in  the  practical  concep- 
tion of  the  highest  good  as  the  object  of  our  will.”  It  is 
however  of  utmost  importance  to  realize  that  though  Kant 
taught  what  Tennyson  later  sung, 

“ We  have  but  faith,  we  cannot  know, 

For  knowledge  is  of  things  we  see,” 

1 “ Kritik  of  Practical  Reason,”  Bk.  II.,  Chapter  2,  V.,  H.,  131;  W.,  297. 

2 Ibid.,  loc.  cit.,  VI.4,  H.,  139-140;  W.,  299-300. 


The  Critical  P hilosophy  of  Kant 


271 


he  none  the  less  attributes  to  the  believed  or  postulated 
objects  of  the  practical  reason  all  the  reality  of  known  ob- 
jects. Over  and  over  again  he  says  this.  “Freedom,  Immor- 
tality, and  God,”  he  declares,  “.  . . gain  objective  reality 
through  an  apodictic  practical  law,  as  necessary  conditions 
of  the  possibility  of  that  which  the  law  commands  shall  be 
its  object.”  He  even  adds  1 that  “theoretical  knowledge  . . . 
has  been  extended”  by  being  “forced  to  admit  that  there 
are  supersensible  objects,”  though  nothing  definite  is  theo- 
retically known  of  them.  Only,  therefore,  his  arbitrary 
limitation  of  the  term  ‘knowledge’  prevents  Kant  from  ap- 
plying the  word  to  our  consciousness  of  self  and  of  God.  The 
critics  who  represent  Kant  as  teaching  merely  that  there  is  a 
moral  ‘probability’  that  God  exists,  or  as  teaching  that  we 
should  act  as  if  we  knew  that  God  exists,  wholly  misrepresent 
Kant’s  position.  For  Kant  asserts  positively  and  not  doubt- 
fully that  a universe  of  moral  selves  and  a God  exist. 

Thus,  to  review  Kant’s  ethical  doctrine,  it  is  evident  that 
he  rightly  teaches  that  the  facts  of  the  moral  consciousness 
presuppose  the  existence  of  a society  of  real  and  interrelated 
selves.  But  it  is  evident,  also,  that,  though  his  main  con- 
clusions are  thus  justified,  he  does  not  succeed  in  demon- 
strating either  the  immortality  and  the  blessedness  of  the 
individual,  or  the  existence  of  God.  For  his  arguments,  in  all 
three  cases,  are  of  a traditional  and  empirical  nature,  and  he 
does  not  satisfactorily  prove  that  immortality  and  happiness 
and  God  are  implications  of  the  moral  consciousness.  His 
main  defect  is,  in  truth,  the  failure  to  see  that  the  argument 
from  obligation  is  not  the  only  one : that  not  merely  the  will, 
but  the  thought,  the  memory,  — yes,  even  the  emotion  and  the 
sensation  of  the  conscious  experience,  — imply  a self  funda- 
mental to  ideas,  which  does  not  merely  will,  but  which  thinks, 
remembers,  feels,  and  perceives.  Such  a self  presupposes  — 
as  Kant  clearly  realized,  though  he  argued  it  in  so  ineffective 


1 “ Kritik  ot  Practical  Reason,’  H.,  141 ; W , 300*. 


272  Attack  upon  Dualism  and  P henomenalism 

a way  — a world  of  things  which  are  mere  objects  for  the 
self,1  a world  of  related  finite  selves,  and  a God  who  is  the 
sum  of  all  reality,  — who  is,  in  truth,  intelligence  and  will. 

These  results  so  closely  resemble  those  of  the  pre-Kantian 
idealists,  Leibniz  and  Berkeley,  that  it  is  fair  to  ask  ourselves, 
Does  Kant  represent  any  significant  advance  upon  their  doc- 
trine? Has  he,  in  truth,  done  more  than  correct  Hume’s 
sensationalistic  phenomenalism  and  Wolff’s  intellectualistic 
dualism,  so  as  to  swing  philosophy  back  from  Hume  and 
Wolff  to  Berkeley  and  to  Leibniz?  Measured  by  the  stand- 
ard of  its  progress  toward  idealism,  is  not  Kant’s  system, 
indeed,  a retrogression,  since  he  asserts  the  existence  of 
things-in-themselves  ? Or,  if  it  be  assumed  that  Kant  finally 
interprets  the  things-in-themselves  as  free  selves,  — the  pos- 
tulates of  the  practical  reason,  — is  not  his  system  less 
simply  self-consistent  than  Berkeley’s?  And,  if  all  these 
questions  are  affirmatively  answered,  a practical  question 
will  doubtless  next  be  asked : What  use  is  there,  it  will  not 
unreasonably  be  urged,  in  the  study  of  a text  so  intricate,  so 
difficult,  and  so  contradictory  as  Kant’s?  To  this  question 
there  are,  however,  three  answers,  that  is,  there  are  three 
ways  of  justifying  our  study  of  Kant. 

Kant’s  influence  has,  in  the  first  place,  been  far  greater  than 
that  of  Leibniz  or  of  Berkeley.  Berkeley  had  very  little 
effect  on  continental  or  even  on  British  philosophy,  and 
Leibniz’s  doctrine  was  distorted  by  Wolff  before  it  was  fairly 
understood;  whereas  the  post-Kantian  German  schools  are 
built  up  on  Kant’s  philosophy,  and  all  philosophical  works, 
up  to  our  own  day,  presuppose  an  acquaintance  with  Kant’s 
terms  and  with  his  argument. 

There  is,  in  the  second  place,  a certain  methodological 
value  in  the  hard-won  character  and  in  the  very  slowness  and 
incompleteness  of  Kant’s  thinking.  The  idealistic  stand- 


1 Cf . the  teaching  of  the  “ Kritik  of  J udgment.” 


The  Critical  P hilosophy  of  Kant  273 

point  is  opposed  to  that  of  our  traditional  doctrine,  so  that 
there  seems  to  be  something  almost  like  sleight-of-hand  in 
Leibniz’s  and  in  Berkeley’s  lightning-like  transformation  of 
the  world  of  independent  things  into  the  world  of  monads 
and  souls.  Kant’s  more  grudging  method  is,  for  one  type  of 
mind  at  any  rate,  more  convincing.  He  does  not  wish  to 
yield  the  world  of  independent  reality  and  yet  — bit  by  bit  — 
he  finds  himself  compelled  to  give  up  space,  time,  substance, 
causality;  and  at  the  end  the  very  things-in-themselves 
threaten  to  turn  into  real  selves. 

But,  finally,  there  is  in  Kant’s  teaching  a distinct  advance, 
or  at  the  very  least  the  material  for  a distinct  advance,  both 
on  Leibniz  and  on  Berkeley.  The  great  defect  of  each  of 
these  systems  is,  as  was  shown,  its  failure  to  show  the  rela- 
tion between  infinite  and  finite  monads,  or  selves.  Berkeley, 
for  example,  never  explains  how  the  Infinite  produces  ideas 
in  the  finite  mind,  nor  how  the  finite  knows  either  the  Infinite 
or  other  human  selves.  But  Kant,  by  his  distinction  between 
the  empirical  and  the  transcendental  self  which  are  yet  the 
same  self,  by  his  teaching  that  the  moral  consciousness  pre- 
supposes related  selves,  recognizes  the  problem  and  suggests 
its  solution.  A completely  satisfactory  solution,  it  must  be 
admitted,  philosophy  has  never  yet  found. 


T 


SYSTEMS  AND  INTIMATIONS  OF 
NUMERICAL  MONISM 


CHAPTER  VIII 


MONISTIC  PLURALISM:1  THE  SYSTEM  OF  SPINOZA 

“ Es  giebt  keine  andere  Philosophic,  als  die  Philosophic  des  Spinoza.” 
— Lessing,  as  quoted,  by  Jacobi. 

We  have  followed,  thus,  the  history  of  modem  thought  on 
the  problem  of  ultimate  reality,  from  its  initial  dualistic 
opposition  of  spirit  to  matter,  through  two  forms  of  quali- 
tative monism,  first,  the  materialism  of  Hobbes,  which  re- 
duces spirit  reality  to  matter,  and  second,  the  idealism  of 
Leibniz  and  of  Berkeley,  which  admits  only  spiritual  reality. 
We  have  analyzed  also  the  Humian  form  of  idealism,  a denial 
of  the  existence  of  self-conscious  selves  or  spirits  and  a con- 
sequent reduction  of  reality  to  the  succession  of  fleeting  and 
evanescent  states  of  consciousness;  finally,  we  have  con- 
sidered Kant’s  refutation  of  this  system  of  phenomenalism  — 
in  other  words,  Kant’s  restoration  of  the  conscious  self  to  its 
rightful  position  as  a reality  implied,  necessarily,  by  the 
fleeting  ideas  themselves.  Kant’s  successful  criticism  of 
Hume’s  position  seems  thus  to  throw  us  back  into  the  Leib- 
nizian  or  Berkeleian  universe  of  the  many  conscious  spirits; 
for  Kant’s  own  conviction  of  an  unknown  reality,  behind  the 
world  of  the  self,  has  proved  to  be  an  inconsistent  and  un- 
justified remnant  of  dualism. 

Yet  the  study  of  Kant  makes  it  impossible  to  accept  un- 
critically the  doctrine  of  Berkeley.  For  Kant  plainly  realizes, 

1 This  statement  of  Spinoza’s  philosophy  runs  counter  to  the  usual  con- 
ception of  it  as  a purely  monistic  system.  It  is  indeed  true,  as  will  appear, 
that  the  most  significant  teaching  of  Spinoza  is  his  numerically  monistic  con- 
ception of  the  one  substance ; but  his  doctrine  of  the  many  attributes  con- 
stitutes the  system  qualitatively  pluralistic  as  well. 

277 


278 


Monistic  Pluralism 


though  he  does  not  definitely  formulate,  a difficulty  utterly 
neglected  by  Berkeley,  and  realized  but  inconsistently  met 
by  Leibniz : the  problem  of  the  relation  of  the  many  selves 
to  each  other.  Both  Leibniz  and  Berkeley,  as  has  appeared, 
conceive  the  universe  as  composed  of  immaterial,  spiritual 
substances,  of  which  one  — the  supreme  monad  or  God  — ■ 
is  infinitely  superior  to  the  others.  Neither  Berkeley  nor 
Leibniz,  however,  explains  the  relation  of  the  spiritual  sub- 
stances to  each  other ; still  less,  does  either  of  them  reconcile 
the  infiniteness,  perfection,  absolute  completeness  of  the 
divine  self  with  the  existence  of  these  lesser  selves.1  Their 
systems  of  philosophy,  in  other  words,  though  qualitatively 
monistic,  are  numerically  pluralistic.  They  teach  that  there 
is  but  one  kind  of  reality,  spiritual,  in  the  universe,  but  that 
there  are  many  spirits;  and  they  fail  to  reconcile  the  inde- 
pendence of  the  spirits  with  their  existence  together  in  the 
universe  and  with  the  existence  of  a supreme  spirit. 

It  has  already  been  shown  that  Kant  realizes  the  difficulties 
inherent  in  a numerically  pluralistic  idealism ; and  indeed  his 
doctrine  of  the  transcendental  self  can  be  interpreted  — as 
has  been  indicated  — in  such  a way  that  it  becomes  a monistic 
doctrine  of  one,  all-inclusive  self,  not  a pluralistic  doctrine 
of  many  independent  selves.  Such  a reading,  however, 
probably  is  not  in  the  spirit  of  Kant  himself.  He  is  rather 
a critic  of  pluralistic  idealism  than  the  creator  of  a monistic 
system.  But  a century  earlier  — before  the  time  of  the 
idealists,  earlier,  therefore,  than  Berkeley  or  even  Leibniz  — 
there  had  appeared  a constructive  critic  of  numerical  plural- 
ism, a great  thinker  who  conceived  of  reality  as  ultimately 
one  being,  or  substance,  and  of  the  so-called  many  reali- 
ties— whether  things  or  thoughts,  bodies  or  spirits  — as 
modifications  of  this  one  substance.  This  teacher  of  numeri- 
cal monism  was  Baruch  Spinoza,  bom  in  Amsterdam  of 
Jewish  parents  in  1632,  expelled  from  the  synagogue  in  1656, 

1 For  detailed  criticisms  of  Leibniz,  cf.  supra,  pp.  100  seq.;  of  Berkeley, 
Supra,  pp.  144  seq. 


The  System  of  Spinoza  279 

dying  at  The  Hague  in  1677  after  a lifeof  high  courage,  blame- 
less honor,  tranquil  industry,  and  lofty  thought.  The  com- 
pletest  expression  of  his  metaphysical  thought,  “The  Ethics,” 
was  published  in  1677,  after  his  death,  but  exerted  literally 
no  influence  on  contemporary  philosophy,  because  of 
the  prejudice  against  Spinoza,  aroused  in  great  part  by  the 
publication  of  an  earlier  work,  the  “Tractatus  Theologico- 
Politicus,”  which  promulgated  unorthodox  views  of  biblical 
criticism  and  ecclesiastical  freedom.  Spinoza’s  philosophy 
was  decried  — for  the  most  part,  unread  — by  theologians 
and  philosophers  as  atheistic,  and  was  attacked,  also,  on  the 
ground  that  it  undermined  morality.  The  justice  of  these 
charges  can  be  fully  estimated  only  by  a study  of  Spinoza’s 
writings.  That  he  was  pantheist  and  necessitarian  will 
become  evident,  but  it  will  appear  that  his  system  presents  a 
foundation  for  religion  and  that  his  ethical  teachings  inculcate 
a high  and  vigorous  morality.  But  the  contemporary  preju- 
dice, though  rooted  in  misunderstanding  and  ignorance, 
effectively  isolated  Spinoza’s  teaching.  His  criticism  of  the 
numerical  pluralism  of  the  scholastic  and  Cartesian  doctrines 
did  not  influence  either  Leibniz  or  Berkeley.  Both  these 
philosophers  corrected  the  qualitative  pluralism  of  Descartes 
and  Locke,  by  substituting  one  for  two  kinds  of  reality;  but 
they  failed  to  see  the  difficulty  inherent  in  the  doctrine  of  the 
many  substances,  and  peopled  their  universe  with  many 
spirits,  without  considering  Spinoza’s  great  conception  of  a 
single  ultimate  reality,  one  substance.  But  Spinoza’s  con- 
ception did  not  remain  forever  unfruitful.  When  idealism, 
rescued  by  Kant  from  Hume’s  phenomenalistic  interpreta- 
tion, seemed  about  to  reassert  itself,  — just  over  a century, 
therefore,  after  Spinoza’s  death,  — there  occurred  a revival 
of  Spinozism  which,  applied  to  traditional  forms  of  idealism, 
transmuted  the  doctrine  of  the  one  substance  into  the  con- 
ception of  the  absolute  self,  manifested  in  the  finite  selves, 
not  externally  related  to  them. 

Lessing,  the  poet  thinker  of  the  later  eighteenth  century, 


28o 


Monistic  P luralism 


restored  Spinoza  to  his  right  as  master-mind ; and  historians, 
poets,  and  philosophers  alike  — Herder  and  Goethe,  no  less 
than  Schelling  and  Hegel  — were  profoundly  impressed  and 
influenced  by  Spinoza’s  doctrine  of  the  one  substance  and 
of  the  consequent  subordination  of  lesser  realities  to  the  All- 
including.  This  influence  of  Spinoza  on  the  philosophy  of 
the  eighteenth  and  of  the  early  nineteenth  century  is  the 
more  remarkable  since,  as  will  be  shown,  the  teaching  of 
Spinoza  did  not  fall  in  line  with  the  personalistic  idealism 
which  characterized  most  of  these  post-Kantian systems.  Spi 
noza’s  assumption  of  the  equal  value  of  thought  and  extension 
had  been  successfully  challenged  by  Leibniz  and  by  Berkeley. 
His  realistic  and  uncritical  assumption  of  the  possibility  of 
knowing  the  ultimate  had  been  opposed  by  Kant ; and  even 
if,  with  the  writer,  one  believe  that  Kant  did  not  prove  his 
point,  one  must  admit  that  he  made  impossible  an  epistemol- 
ogy so  uncritical  as  that  of  Spinoza. 

But  in  spite  of  these  anachronisms  and  in  spite  also  of  the 
rigid  Euclidean  form  of  his  “Ethics,”  strangely  contrasting 
with  the  inchoate  romanticism  of  most  works,  philosophical 
as  well  as  literary,  of  this  period  in  German  literature,  Spi- 
noza’s “ Ethics”  laid  its  impress  on  the  thought  of  this  period. 
And  this  effect  it  wrought  through  its  central  conception,  the 
doctrine  of  numerical  monism,  the  theory  that  reality  is 
ultimately  one  being  which  underlies  the  manifold  realities 
of  the  phenomenal  universe. 

Spinoza’s  “Ethics,”  his  most  important  work,  is  divided 
into  these  five  parts:  “ Of  God,”  “ Of  the  Nature  and  Ori- 
gin of  the  Mind,”  “ Of  the  Nature  and  Origin  of  the 
Emotions,”  “Of  Human  Bondage,”  and  “Of  Human  Free- 
dom.” As  its  title  indicates  and  as  Spinoza  repeatedly 
says,  the  “Ethics”  is  written  with  a practical  purpose:  the 
whole  book  and  not  merely  the  last  division  of  it  “is  concerned 
with  the  way  leading  to  freedom.”1  But  Spinoza’s  discovery 

1 Pt.  V.,  Preface,  first  sentence.  (All  references  are  to  the  “Ethics," 
unless  another  title  is  expressly  named.) 


The  System  of  Spinoza 


281 


of  the  path  to  freedom  is  by  way  of  an  investigation  of  ulti- 
mate  reality ; and  this  reality  turns  out  to  be  both  the  guaran- 
tee of  freedom  and  the  incentive  to  it.  “The  results,”  he 
says,  “which  must  necessarily  follow  from  the  essence  of 
God  . . . are  able  to  lead  us,  as  it  were  by  the  hand,  to  the 
knowledge  of  the  human  mind  and  its  highest  blessedness.”  1 
We  are  chiefly  concerned  with  the  fundamental  metaphysical 
teaching  of  Spinoza.2 

In  each  of  the  divisions  of  the  “Ethics”  Spinoza  begins, 
after  the  fashion  of  the  geometry  books,  with  a series  of 
definitions,  supplemented  by  a set  of  axioms  (in  one  case, 
postulates),  and  then  followed  by  propositions  with  their 
proofs,  corollaries,  and  scholia.  The  explanation  of  this 
formal  method  is  not  far  to  seek.  Spinoza  shared  with  his 
contemporaries  a profound  reverence  for  mathematics,  and 
with  Descartes  in  particular  the  hope  of  lending  to  meta- 
physical investigation  the  certainty  possessed  by  mathe- 
matics. This  seems  to  have  suggested  to  him  that  there 
must  be  some  special  virtue  in  the  technical  forms  in  which 
mathematical  demonstrations  are  made.  In  this,  however, 
Spinoza  — as  every  modern  critic  admits  — was  mistaken.3 
Mathematics  and  philosophy  are,  to  be  sure,  allied  in  that 
both  involve,  on  the  one  hand,  insight,  and,  on  the  other  hand, 
reflection.  But  mathematics  with  its  restricted  subject-mat- 
ter is  likely  to  differ,  in  method,  from  philosophy  with  its 
unhampered  range;  and  Spinoza’s  choice,  among  mathe- 
matical methods,  of  the  deductive  procedure  of  Euclidean 
geometry  is  especially  unfortunate,  since  it  obscures  the  fact 
that  his  system  rests,  after  all,  on  immediate  observation. 
This  unfortunate  setting  of  his  doctrine  is  responsible,  in- 
deed, for  the  most  frequent  misinterpretation  of  it : the 

1 Pt.  II.,  Preface. 

2 The  metaphysical  teaching  is  developed  mainly  in  Pt.  I.,  in  the  Defini- 
tions, Axioms,  and  first  thirteen  Propositions  of  Part  II.,  and  in  Propositions 
XV.  through  XXIII.  of  Pt.  V.  The  student  is  urged  to  read  at  least  so 
much  of  the  “Ethics”;  he  will  do  well  to  read  it  entire. 

3 Cf.  F.  Pollock,  “Spinoza,  His  Life  and  Philosophy,”  pp.  147  seq. 


282 


Monistic  P luralism 


charge  that  Spinoza’s  definitions  and  axioms  are  far  from 
self-evident,  that  on  the  contrary  he  summarizes  his  beliefs, 
without  establishing  them,  in  his  introductory  definitions,  and 
that  he  then,  with  great  show  of  logic,  elaborately  proves 
them  by  propositions  based  on  these  very  definitions.1  This 
criticism,  as  will  appear  in  the  following  sketch  of  Spinoza’s 
system,  is  not  justified  by  his  teaching,  but  it  is  readily  ex- 
plained by  the  misleading  frame  in  which  his  doctrine  is  set. 
Even  Spinoza  must  have  realized  at  times  that  his  method 
hampered  him,  for  he  adds  to  each  Part  of  his  “Ethics”  a 
Preface  or  an  Appendix  or  both,  and  in  most  of  these,  as  well 
as  in  very  many  of  his  letters,  he  sets  forth  his  meaning  in 
direct  and  forcible  fashion.  To  the  analysis  of  his  teaching 
it  is  necessary  now  to  turn.  This  chapter  attempts  to  give 
both  an  exposition  of  Spinoza’s  teaching,  and  a critic; 
consideration  of  his  arguments  and  their  conclusions.  N 
attempt  is  made  in  the  expository  part  of  the  chapter  to  folio’ 
Spinoza’s  order  of  propositions,  which  indeed  often  obscure 
his  real  meaning. 


I.  The  Doctrine  of  the  One  Substance:  God 


The  traditional  philosophy,  it  will  be  remembered,  a 
formulated  just  before  Spinoza’s  time  by  Descartes,  conceive 
of  substance  as  independent  reality.  Most  of  the  definition^ 
with  which  Part  I of  the  “ Ethics”  begins  are  an  amplification 
of  this  traditional  doctrine,  and  a statement  of  its  corollaries. 
‘By  substance,”  Spinoza  says,  “I  mean  that  which  is  in 
itself  and  is  conceived  through  itself : in  other  words,  that  of 
which  a conception  can  be  formed  independently  of  any 

1 Cf.  Berkeley,  “Alciphron,  or  the  Minute  Philosopher,”  Dialogue,  VII., 
Clarendon  Press  edition,  Vol.  II.,  p.  334. 


a.  Exposition 

1.  Substance  as  totality  0}  reality 


! 


The  System  of  Spinoza 


283 


other  conception;”1  and  he  contrasts  substance,  thus  con- 
ceived, with  the  mode,  or  modification  of  substance,  which 
“.exists  in,  and  isTconceived  through,  something  other  than 
itself.” 2 This  definition  of  substance  clearly  suggests 
Descartes’s:  “By  substance  we  can  conceive  nothing  else 
than  a thing  which  exists  in  such  a way  as  to  stand  in  need 
of  nothing  beyond  itself  in  order  to  its  existence.”  3 
" But  Spinoza  advances  beyond  Descartes  in  defining  sub- 
stance not  only  as  that  which  exists  in  itself  (without  de- 
pendence on  the  external)  but  as  that  which  is  conceived 
through  itsel|/  For  substance,  if  conceived  through  itself 
only,  is  of  necessity  all-inclusive ; since,  if  anything  existed 
outside  it,  substance  would  have  to  be  conceived  as  limited- 
at-least-in-extent  by  that  other  existent,  and  would  not  there- 
fore be  conceived  through  itself  alone.  To  be  conceived 
through  itself  substance  must,  therefore,  be  unlimited.  The 
bare  existence  of  anything  outside  itself  would  be  a limi- 
tation, a derogation  from  its  completeness,  and  substance 
must  consequently  itself  be  all  that  there  is.  This  doc- 
trine is  stated  in  the  early  propositions  of  the  “Ethics,”  in 
which  Spinoza  argues,  first,  that  a substance,  a reality  in 
itself  and  conceived  through  itself,  can  neither  be  pro-/ 
duced  4 nor  in  any  way  limited  5 by  another  substance ; and, 
second,  that  therefore  “there  can  only  be  one  substance.”6 

1 Pt.  I.,  Def.  3 ( Per  substantiam  intelligo  id  quod  in  se  est  et  -per  se 
concipitur). 

2 Pt.  I.,  Def.  S ( Per  modum  intelligo  substantia  affectionem,  sive  id  quod 
in  alio  est,  per  quod  etiam  concipitur). 

3 “The  Principles  of  Philosophy,”  Pt.  I.,  Prop.  51. 

4 Pt.  I..  Props.  2,  3,  6 (“one  substance  cannot  be  produced  by  another”). 

5 Pt.  I.,  Props.  4,  5,  8 (“every  substance  is  necessarily  infinite”).  The 
actual  argument  of  Props.  2-8  is  unnecessarily  intricate,  involving  both 
the  admitted  doctrine  of  the  relation  of  attributes  to  substance  and  the  tem- 
porary supposition  (at  once  shown  to  be  absurd)  that  there  are  several 
substances  unrelated  to  each  other.  Really,  however,  as  Spinoza  recognizes 
in  a parallel  case  (cf.  Prop.  8,  Schol.  2,  infra,  p.  285),  the  isolation  and  thus 
the  exclusiveness  of  substance  follows  from  the  definition  of  it  as  ‘ in  itself  and 
conceived  through  itself.’ 

* Pt.  I.,  Prop.  8,  Proof,  first  clause. 


284 


Monistic  Pluralism 


The  most  important  difference  between  Spinoza  and  the 
Cartesians  is  brought  out  by  the  words  just  quoted.  Des- 
cartes sees  nothing  inconsistent  in  his  assertion  of  the  exist- 
ence of  subordinate  realities,  or  substances,  outside  that 
substance  which  stands  “ in  need  of  nothing  beyond  itself  in 
order  to  its  existence  ” ; but  Spinoza  realizes  that  only  the 
all-inclusive  can  be  absolutely  independent,  or  self-depen- 
dent. By  insisting  not  only  that  substance  exists  in  itself, 
but  that  it  is  conceived  through  itself,  he  emphasizes  this 
truth;  for  no  reality  existing  along  with  another,  however 
superior  to  this  other,  is  conceived  purely  through  itself ; on 
the  other  hand,  it  is  necessarily  conceived  as  not-that-other, 
that  is,  it  is  in  part  conceived  through  the  other.  Spinoza, 
therefore,  conceives  the  alleged  subordinate  realities  as 
manifestations,  or  expressions,  of  the  one  substance. 

But  Spinoza’s  doctrine,  as  so  far  discussed,  offers  no  argu- 
ment for  the  existence  of  substance  thus  regarded  as  abso- 
lute totality.  Granted  that  substance,  if  it  exist,  must  be 
totality,  how  is  it  proved  that  there  exists,  actually  and  not 
merely  in  conception,  any  such  unlimited,  one  substance? 
It  is  often  said  that  Spinoza  merely  takes  for  granted,  without 
any  effort  to  establish  his  conviction,  the  existence  of  the  one 
subtsance.  Such  a charge  is  not  unnatural,  for  the  very  first 
sentence  of  Part  I,1  readily  lends  itself  to  this  interpretation. 
“By  that  which  is  self-caused,”  Spinoza  says  (and  this,  of 
course,  is  substance),2  “I  mean  that  of  which  the  essence  in- 
volves existence,  or  that  of  which  the  nature  is  only  conceiv- 
able asexistent.”  This  proposition,  it  will  be  admitted,  asserts 
and  does  not  justify  the  doctrine  that  the  existence  of  sub- 
stance follows  from  the  conception,  and  is  thus  a mere 
repetition  of  Descartes’s  form  of  the  discredited  ontological 
argument.  But  this  criticism  overlooks  the  probability  that 

these  introductory  definitions  claim  to  be  nothing  more  than 

. 

1 Def.  1. 

2 Cf.  “De  Intellectus  Emendatione  ” (Vol.  I.,  p.  28,  of  Van  Vloten  and 
Land  edition  of  Spinoza) : Si  res  sit  in  se  sive,  ul  vulgo  dicitur,  causa  sui. 


The  System  of  Spinoza  285 

a restatement  of  traditional  doctrine;  it  further  disregards 
the  fact  that  the  early  Propositions  of  Part  I.  do  imply  a justi- 
fication, impossible  on  Descartes’s  system,  for  the  doctrine 
that  the  existence  of  substance  follows  from  the  conception 
of  it.  This  justification  is  found  in  the  teaching,  already 
outlined,  that  there  can  be  but  one  substance.  For  the  one 
substance,  so  far  as  we  have  yet  seen,  means  no  more  than 
“all  that  exists” ; and  of  the  “all  that  exists,”  every  one  must 
certainly  admit  that  it  does  exist.  The  very  emptiness  and 
indeterminateness  of  substance,  thus  regarded,  make  it  pos- 
sible to  assert  its  necessary  existence.  For  whereas  it  might 
be  necessary  to  establish  the  existence  of  this  or  that  par- 
ticular reality,  — of  God  conceived  as  one  reality  among 
others  or  of  a world  of  material  things,  — it  is  certain  that 
all  that  there  is  (it  may  turn  out  to  be  of  this  or  that  sort  or  of 
many  sorts)  exists.  “If  people  would  consider  the  nature 
of  substance,”  Spinoza  says,  “.  . . this  proposition  [exist- 
ence belongs  to  the  nature  of  substance]  would  be  a universal 
axiom  and  accounted  a truism.” 1 The  existence  of  substance, 
in  so  far  as  substance  means  the  all-of-reality,  follows,  thus, 
from  its  utter  completeness.  In  other  words  the  conception 
carries  with  it  the  certainty  of  the  existence  of  substance, 
precisely  because  it  is  a conception  of  a so  far  undetermined 
All.  Such  a guarantee  of  existence  Descartes’s  conception 
of  infinite  substance  does  not  possess,  because  that  is  a 
conception  of  a particular  sort  of  reality — -good,  wise,  power- 
ful — and  because  the  actual  existence  of  these  special  char- 
acters does  not  immediately  follow  from  the  thought  of  them. 
The  existence  of  something  is,  however,  immediately  certain 
(the  existence,  in  the  last  analysis,  of  this  thought  about 
existence) ; 2 and  it  is  equally  certain  that  whatever  is, 
namely  all  that  there  is,  exists.3 

1 Pt.  I.,  Prop.  8,  Schol.  II.  Cf.  Letter  II.  (The  Letters  are  dted  as  num- 
bered in  the  translation  of  Elwes  and  in  the  edition  of  Van  Vloten  and  Land.) 

2 This  statement  is  not  made  by  Spinoza. 

3 Besides  implying  this  justification  of  the  doctrine  that  substance  exists, 


286 


Monistic  P luralism 


This  one  substance,  which  exists  necessarily,  Spinoza  calls 
God.  “By  God,”  he  says,  in  Definition  6,  “I  mean  a being 
absolutely  infinite.”  But  he  proceeds,  as  we  know,  to  prove 
that  “ there  can  be  only  one  substance,”  1 and  that  “ substance 
is  necessarily  infinite.”  2 Evidently,  then,  ‘God’  and  ‘sub- 
stance’ are  for  Spinoza  synonymous  terms;  and  the  demon- 
strations, later  introduced,  of  God’s  existence,  are,  to  say  the 
least,  unnecessary,3  since  substance,  the  all,  is  admitted  to 
exist. 


2.  Substance  as  manifested  in  the  modes,  not  the  mere  sum 

of  them 

Spinoza  does  not,  however,  conceive  of  substance  as  the 
mere  aggregate,  or  sum,  of  all  that  exists.  So  regarded,  sub- 
stance would  be  an  infinite  composite  constituted  by  the  bare 
existence  of  all  the  particular  finite  realities  which  exist,  or 
have  existed,  or  will  exist.  But  Spinoza,  so  far  from  teach- 
ing that  substance  is  constituted,  or  made  up,  of  finite  realities, 
insists  that  the  finite  phenomena  are  parts  of  the  one  substance, 
that  they  are  real  only  as  partaking  of  the  nature  of  this  sub- 
stance. In  fact  he  calls  the  finite  phenomena  ‘modes’  of 
substance  4 and  says  plainly,  “By  mode  I mean  the  modifi- 
cation of  substance,  or  that  which  exists  in,  and  is  conceived 
through,  something  other  than  itself.”  Obviously,  then, 
Spinoza  holds  that  substance  has  a reality  deeper  than  that 


Spinoza  gives  evidence  of  sharing  the  incorrect  Cartesian  doctrine,  charac- 
teristic of  the  seventeenth  century,  that  clear  thought  implies  the  existence 
of  substance  as  its  object. 

1 Pt.  I.,  Prop.  8,  Proof. 

2 Pt.  I.,  Prop.  8. 

5 Of  Spinoza’s  proofs,  the  first  is  a mere  reaffirmation  of  the  existence  of 
substance;  the  second  involves  the  questionable  assumption  that  anything 
exists  if  no  reason  can  be  given  for  its  non-existence ; and  the  third  carries 
with  it  the  non-Spinozistic  conception  of  the  existence  of  more  than  one 
substance. 

4 The  term  ‘phenomena’  is  not  used  by  Spinoza.  For  his  conception  of 
finite  things  as  related  to  each  other,  see  this  chapter,  § II.,  infra,  p.  300. 


The  System  of  Spinoza 


287 


of  the  modes  of  finite  phenomena.  Otherwise,  he  must  have 
said,  substance  exists  as  the  sum  of  the  modes,  instead 
of  saying  (as  he  does  repeatedly),  the  modes  exist  in 
substance. 

Throughout  the  “ Ethics,”  the  modes  are  thus  subordinated 
to  substance,  or  God.  “Whatsoever  is,”  Spinoza  says  dis- 
tinctly, “is  in  God,  and  without  God  nothing  can  be,  or  be 
conceived.  . . . Alndes  can  neither  be.  nor  be  conceived, 
without  substance,  wherefore  they  can  only  be  in  the  divine 
nature  and  can  only  through  it  be  conceived.”  1 This  con- 
ception of  finite  phenomena  as  constituted  through  the  fact 
that  they  partake  of  the  divine  nature  underlies  all  the  special 
doctrines  of  the  “Ethics.”  Thus  Spinoza  says  of  the  human 
mind  that  it  “is  part  of  the  infinite  intellect  of  God,”  that, 
indeed,  “he  constitutes  the  essence  of  the  human  mind.”  2 
Again,  he  says  that  “all  ideas  are  in  God.” 3 In  Part 
III.  he  argues  for  the  truth  that  “everything  endeavors 
to  persist  in  its  own  being,”  from  the  admitted  propo- 
sition, “individual  tilings  . . . express  in  a given  deter- 
minate manner  the  power  of  God,  whereby  God  is  and 
acts.”  4 

The  last  statement  is  one  of  those  in  which  Spinoza  goes 
beyond  the  assertion  of  the  subordinateness  of  modes  to  God, 
and  directly  asserts  the  independent  reality  of  God.  Similar 
to  the  statement  that  “ God  is  and  acts”  is  the  repeated  teach- 
ing that  God  is  the  cause  of  the  modes,  or  finite  phenomena. 
“God  . . . is  and  acts,”  Spinoza  declares,  “ solely  by  the  ne- 
cessity of  his  own  nature ; he  is  the  free  cause  of  all  things  . . . ; 
...  all  things  are  in  God  and  so  depend  on  him  that 
without  him  they  could  neither  exist  nor  be  conceived.”  5 
“God,”  he  says,  a little  earlier,  “we  have  shown  to  be  the  first 
and  only  free  cause  of  the  essence  of  all  things  and  also  of 

1 Pt.  I.,  Prop.  15,  and  Proof.  Cf.  Prop.  25,  Cor.;  Prop.  29,  Schol.,  end; 
Tt.  II.,  Prop.  45,  Proof. 

2 Pt.  II.,  Prop.  11,  Cor.  3 Pt.  II.,  Prop.  36,  Proof. 

4 Pt.  III.,  Prop.  6,  and  Proof.  6 Pt.  I.,  Appendix,  first  paragraph. 


288 


Monistic  Pluralism 


their  existence.”  1 It  is  true  that  Spinoza  means  by  cause 
something  more  than  that  which  Descartes  meant,  an  imma- 
nent as  well  as  an  efficient  cause ; 2 but  whatever  his  con- 
ception of  cause,  Spinoza’s  God,  or  substance,  which  he  calls 
free  cause  of  all  existent  things,  is  in  some  sense  more  real 
than  the  aggregate  of  finite  realities.  It  is  not  made  up  of 

them,  but  constitutes  them;  they  are  its  modifications,  its 
expressions.3 

But  this  conclusion  leads  inevitably  to  the  question : what, 

then,  is  the  nature  of  substance  — that  nature  which  is  ex- 
pressed in  the  modes?  If  substance  were  the  mere  sum  of 
the  modes,  then  an  exhaustive  study  of  these  modes  — an 
investigation  of  the  facts  of  science  — would  yield  a sufficient 
account  of  substance.  But  since  the  modes  must  be  con- 
ceived and  explained  through  substance,  an  independent 
investigation  of  its  nature  becomes  necessary.  Spinoza 
attempts  to  describe  substance  by  his  doctrine  of  attributes. 

3.  Substance  as  constituted  by  the  attributes:  God  as  think- 
ing and  extended  thing 

“By  God,”  Spinoza  says,  “I  mean  a being  absolutely 
infinite,  that  is  a substance  consisting  in  infinite  attributes,  of 
which  each  expresses  eternal  and  infinite  essentiality.” 4 
Spinoza  has  just  defined  attribute  to  be  “that  which  the 
intellect  perceives  as  constituting  the  essence  of  substance.”  5 
His  conception  of  God  is  then  that  of  an  infinite  Being,  in- 
finitely manifold  in  nature,  manifested  in  the  many  finite 
phenomena. 

Spinoza  argues  for  his  reiterated  doctrine  of  the  infinite 
number  of  God’s  attributes  from  the  absolute  infiniteness  of 
God.  “ The  more  reality,  or  being,  a thing  has,  the  greater,” 

1 Pt.  I.,  Prop.  33,  Schol.  II.,  end.  4 Pt.  I.,  Def.  6. 

2 Pt.  I.,  Prop.  16,  Cor.  1-3,  Prop.  18.  6 Pt.  I.,  Def.  4. 


The  System  of  Spinoza 


289 


he  says,  “the  number  of  its  attributes.”  1 But  of  these  attri- 
butes he  admits  that  we  know  only  two,2  thought  and  ex- 
tension.3 Thought  must  be  an  attribute  of  God,  for  it  is 
certain  — from  immediate  introspection,  though  Spinoza 
does  not  point  this  out  — that  particular  thoughts  exist,  and 
since  particular  thoughts  are  modes  expressing  the  nature  of 
God,  thought  must  be  a character  of  God.  In  Spinoza’s 
words  : 4 “ Thought  is  an  attribute  of  God,  or  God  is  a think- 
ing thing.  Particular  thoughts,  or  this  or  that  thought,  are 
modes  which,  in  a certain  conditioned  manner,  express  the 
nature  of  God.  God,  therefore,  possesses  the  attribute  of 
which  the  concept  is  involved  in  all  particular  thoughts,  which 
latter  are  conceived  thereby.  Thought,  therefore,  is  one  of 
the  infinite  attributes  of  God  which  expresses  God’s  eternal 
and  infinite  essence.  ...  In  other  words,  God  is  a think- 
ing being  (res).” 

For  the  parallel  assertion  that  “extension  is  an  attribute  of 
God,  or  God  is  an  extended  thing,”  Spinoza  does  not  argue.5 
“The  proof  of  this  proposition,”  he  says,  “is  similar  to  that 
of  the  last.”  It  will  appear  later  that  Spinoza  is  mistaken  in 
this  implication  that  extended  things,  like  thoughts,  are 
immediately  known  to  exist.  He  seems  to  be  proceeding  in 
this  enumeration  of  the  known  attributes  of  God,  in  more  or 
less  uncritical  accord  not  only  with  Cartesian  philosophizing 
but  with  everyday  observation.  The  ordinary  observer  finds 
that  finite  phenomena  are  of  two  sorts,  thoughts  and  extended 
things.  And  if  from  the  existence  of  the  thoughts  it  be 
argued  that  God  must  have  the  attribute  of  thought  (since  all 
phenomena  merely  express  his  attributes)  it  seems  to  the 
untrained  thinker  evident  that,  from  the  existence  of  the 
things,  one  must  argue  to  extension  as  attribute  of  God. 

1 1.,  Prop.  9.  Cf.  Prop.  10,  Schol. 

3 Cf . Letter  66  (Elwes’  translation),  64  (V an  Vloten  edition). 

3 Pt.  I.,  Prop.  10,  Schol. 

* Pt.  II.,  Prop.  1 and  Proof. 

* Pt.  II.,  Prop.  2. 

U 


290 


Monistic  Pluralism 


It  would  be  unjust  to  Spinoza’s  teaching  to  omit,  even  from 
so  brief  an  outline  of  it,  a reference  to  the  way  in  which  he 
guards  his  assertion  that  “ God  is  a thinking  being,”  even 
though  this  consideration  must  involve  us  in  a difficulty  of 
interpretation.  The  problem  may  be  stated  in  this  form: 
Is  Spinoza’s  God,  or  substance,  self-conscious?  Or,  in 
more  technically  Spinozistic  terms,  does  the  attribute  of 
thought,  defined  as  ‘expressing  the  essentiality’  of  God,  carry 
with  it  the  conception  of  God  as  self-conscious?  A decisive 
answer  is  probably  impossible.  Many,  perhaps  most,  care- 
ful students  of  Spinoza  hold  that  by  his  doctrine  of  the 
thought-attribute  of  God,  Spinoza  means  merely  that  God 
is  the  sum  or  system  of  the  finite  consciousnesses.1  The 
upholders  of  this  view  support  it  mainly  by  reference  to 
Spinoza’s  repeated  assertion  that  “neither  intellect  nor  will 
appertain  to  God’s  nature”2  and  by  reference  also  to  cer- 
tain propositions  of  Part  V.,  in  which  Spinoza  qualifies  the 
statement  “God  loves  himself,”3  by  the  express  assertion 
that  “the  intellectual  love  of  the  mind  [the  finite  mind] 
towards  God  is  that  very  love  of  God  wherewith  God  loves 
himself.”  4 This  statement,  it  is  argued,  regards  God’s  love 
of  himself  as  the  totality  of  the  finite  emotions  of  intellectual 
love  towards  God;  and  in  accordance  with  this  teaching, 
God’s  consciousness  can  be  no  other  than  the  sum  or  system 
of  finite  consciousnesses. 

In  opposition  to  the  second  of  these  arguments  it  may  be 
pointed  out  that  Spinoza’s  expression  is  ambiguous.  When 
he  says  that  the  love  of  the  finite  mind  toward  God  “is  the 
very  love”  or  “is  part  of  the  infinite  love  wherewith  God 
loves  himself,”  he  may  be  supposed  to  mean,  not  neces- 


1 Cf.  Jacobi,  “Briefe  an  Mendelssohn,”  1785,  p.  170:  “Spinozismus  ist 
Atheismus.” 

3 Pt.  I.,  Prop.  17,  Schol.  Cf.  Pt.  V.,  40,  Schol. 

3 Pt.  V.,  Prop.  35  ( Deus  se  ipsum  amove  intellectual i infinito  amat). 

* Pt.  V.,  Prop.  36.  The  end  of  the  proposition  makes  the  conception  more 
explicit  by  stating  that  “ the  intellectual  love  of  the  mind  towards  God  is  part 
of  the  infinite  love  wherewith  God  loves  himself.” 


![ 


The  System  of  Spinoza 


291 


sarily  that  the  love  of  the  finite  mind  is  one  of  a sum  of  emo- 
tions which  together  make  a composite  called  God’s  love, 
but  that  each  finite  love  is  partial  expression  of  the  deeper 
and  wider  love  of  God.  In  other  words,  the  finite  love  may 
be  part  of  God’s  love  as  well  if  it  is  constituted  by  God’s 
love  as  if  it  helps  to  constitute  God’s  love.  Equally  am- 
biguous is  Spinoza’s  refusal  to  attribute  intellect  to  God. 
His  words  must  obviously  be  interpreted  in  relation  to  his 
reference,  in  the  previous  proposition,1  to  ‘infinite  intellect’ 
within  which  “all  things  can  fall.”  Thus  interpreted, 
Spinoza  evidently  denies  to  God  not  intellect,  but  restricted, 
or  human,  intellect.2  In  truth,  then,  neither  of  the  arguments 
is  decisive  which  is  urged  against  the  view  that  Spinoza’s 
God  is  self-conscious. 

In  support  of  the  view  that  Spinoza’s  God  is,  in  some 
sense,  self-conscious,  there  are,  on  the  other  hand,  ex- 
pressions of  the  most  varied  sort  scattered  throughout  the 
“Ethics.”  The  very  first  proposition,  already  quoted,  of 
Part  II.,  is  the  assertion,  vitally  related  to  the  entire  argu- 
ment, “thought  is  an  attribute  of  God,  or  God  is  a thinking 
thing.”  3 The  third  proposition  of  Part  II.  makes  the  con- 
ception more  explicit  by  the  statement,  “In  God  there  is 
necessarily  the  idea,  not  only  of  his  essence,  but  also  of  all 
things  {omnia)  which  necessarily  follow  from  his  essence;” 
and  Spinoza  adds  in  the  scholium  to  this  same  Proposition  3, 
“it  follows  . . . that  God  understands  himself  {ntDeus  seip- 
sum  intelligat).”  It  is  difficult  to  understand  by  God’s  idea 
of  his  own  essence  as  contrasted  with  his  idea  of  the  omnia 
which  fellow  from  it,  anything  less  than  a self-consciousness 
which  underlies  and  includes  but  is  more  than  the  sum,  or 
system,  of  all  finite  consciousnesses.4  Spinoza’s  references  to 

1 Pt.  I.,  Prop.  16.  For  further  references,  cf.  the  passages  cited  infra, 
pp.  297  seq, 

2 Cf.  loc.  cit.,  Pt.  I.,  Prop.  17,  Schol.,  paragraph  3. 

3 Pt.  II.,  Prop.  1 ( Cogitatio  attribution  Dei  ist,  sive  Deus  est  res  cogitans). 

4 Cf.  Chapter  10,  pp.  378  seq.,  Chapter  xi,  pp.  419  seq. 


292 


Monistic  Pluralism 


infinite  intellect  must  be  construed  in  the  same  way.  He 
constantly  teaches  that  finite  phenomena  are  subordinate 
to  infinite  intellect.  “From  the  necessity  of  the  divine 
nature,”  he  says,1  “must  follow  an  infinite  number  of 
things  in  infinite  ways,  i.e.  all  things  which  can  fall  within 
the  sphere  of  infinite  intellect  {omnia,  quae  sub  intellectum 
infinitum  cadere  possunt).”  By  these  words,  Spinoza  cer- 
tainly seems  to  contrast  things,  as  they  appear  to  the  finite 
mind,  with  these  same  things,  as  they  are  viewed  by  the  in- 
finite intellect.  That  he  does  not  mean  by  infinite  intellect 
any  mere  sum,  or  system,  of  finite  intellects  is  made  evident 
also  by  the  scholium,  already  cited,  of  the  following  proposi- 
tion. Spinoza  there  asserts  that  “intellect  and  will,  which 
should  constitute  the  essence  of  God,  must  differ  by  the 
width  of  heaven  {toto  coelo ) from  our  intellect  and  will,  and 
except  in  name  would  not  resemble  them ; any  more  than  the 
dog,  a celestial  constellation,  and  the  dog,  a barking  animal, 
resemble  each  other.”  2 

This  quotation  indicates  that  Spinoza,  however  firmly  he 
holds  that  God  is  self-conscious  being,  not  a mere  sum  of 
conscious  beings,  nevertheless  lays  stress  on  the  utter  con- 
trast between  human  and  divine  consciousness.  The  con- 
sciousness which  Spinoza  attributes  to  God  is,  in  truth, 
intellectual  — and  intellectual,  as  has  been  said,  in  another 
than  human  fashion.  Will,  in  the  sense  of  temporal  volition, 
and  emotion,  in  the  sense  of  passive  affection,  Spinoza  denies 
to  God.  Purposes  for  future  attainment,  that  is,  ‘final 
causes,’  are,  he  says,3  ‘mere  human  figments.’  And  later  he 
asserts  that  “God  is  without  passions,  neither  is  he  affected 
by  any  emotion  of  joy  or  sorrow.”  4 With  especial  emphasis 
also  Spinoza  insists  that  “God  does  not  act  according  to 

1 Pt.  I.,  Prop.  16. 

J For  a criticism  of  this  statement  from  another  point  of  view,  cf.  injra, 
p.  297.  For  Spinoza’s  conception  of  infinite  intellect  as  infinite  mode,  cf.  Let* 
ter  66,  Elwes  (Van  Vloten,  64). 

8 Pt.  I.,  Appendix,  Elwes’  translation,  p.  yp. 

*Pt.  V.,  Prop.  17. 


The  System  of  Spinoza 


29  3 


freedom  of  the  will,”1  if  by  freedom  be  meant  arbitrariness  and 
caprice.  “It  follows,”  Spinoza  consistently  teaches,  “from 
[God’s]  perfection,  that  things  could  not  have  been  by  him 
created  other  than  they  are.”  2 

b.  Critical  estimate  0}  Spinoza's  doctrine  0}  substance 

Spinoza  thus  conceives  of  the  universe  as  a necessarily 
existing,3  unique  whole-of-reality ; which  is  expressed  in 
partial  realities  subordinated  to  the  whole ; 4 which  has,  how- 
ever, a reality  deeper  than  that  of  the  parts ; 5 which  is  in- 
deed self-conscious,  but  with  a consciousness  widely  different 
from  that  of  the  human  selves.6  From  this  exposition  of 
Spinoza’s  doctrine,  it  is  necessary  now  to  turn  to  an  esti- 
mation of  it ; and  a critical  estimate  must  take  account 
both  of  the  internal  consistency  of  the  system  and  of  its 
independent  value.  The  first  criticisms  which  suggest  them- 
selves concern  Spinoza’s  argument  for  the  existence  of  sub- 
stance. 

1.  The  inadequacy  oj  Spinoza's  argument  jor  the  existence 
of  substance 

The  most  significant  feature  of  Spinoza’s  monism  is  his 
insistence,  emphasized  in  the  preceding  outline  of  his  doctrine, 
on  the  absoluteness  and  uniqueness  of  God,  or  substance ; 
and  on  the  subordination  of  the  finite  modes,  or  phenomena, 
to  the  one  God.  The  most  fundamental  of  all  the  criticisms 
on  Spinoza’s  doctrine  is,  therefore,  this,  that  he  never  es- 
tablishes, what  he  so  clearly  conceives,  this  absoluteness  of 

1 Pt.  I.,  Prop.  32,  Cor.  1. 

2 Pt.  I.,  Prop.  33,  Schol.  2.  Cf.  Pt.  I.,  Prop.  17,  Schol. ; Pt.  I.,  Appendix; 
and  Letter  32,  Elwes  (Van  Vloten,  19). 

3 Pt.  I.,  Def.  1;  Prop.  11. 

4 Pt.  I.,  Def.  s ; Prop.  23. 

5 Pt.  I.,  Def.  3 ; Pt.  II.,  Props.  1,  2,  etc. 

8 Cf.  supra,  pp.  290  seq. 


294 


Monistic  Pluralism 


God.  Spinoza’s  only  argument  for  the  existence  of  sub- 
stance is  that  which  is  outlined  in  the  first  section  of  this 
chapter;  and  this  argument,  as  has  been  pointed  out,  de- 
pends for  its  cogency  on  the  utter  emptiness  of  the  conception 
of  substance  as  the  totality  of  all  that  exists.  What  this 
argument  establishes  is  simply  this:  the  all-that-there-is 
exists.  From  this  conclusion  it  is  not  justifiable  to  infer 
directly:  the  necessarily  existing  All  is  more-than-a-sum,  it 
is  a One  manifested  in  its  parts.  Spinoza,  however,  makes 
this  direct  and  invalid  inference,  and  fails,  therefore,  to  es- 
tablish his  most  characteristic  doctrine.  Later  philosophical 
systems,  the  following  chapters  of  this  book  will  try  to  show, 
supply  the  missing  demonstration. 

2.  The  inconsistency  oj  Spinoza's  doctrine  oj  the  attributes 
oj  substance 

The  remaining  criticisms  of  Spinoza’s  monism  concern  not 
its  logical  basis  but  its  inner  consistency.  The  fundamental 
difficulty  may  be  stated  as  follows:  the  conception  of  the 
many  attributes  of  God,  or  substance,  is  inconsistent  with 
the  teaching  that  God  is  fundamentally  one.1  The  conception 
of  the  unity  of  God  is,  of  course,  reconcilable  with  that  of  the 
multiplicity  of  the  modes,  or  finite  realities,  for  these  are 
admitted  to  be  merely  partial  expressions  of  God.  But 
each  of  the  attributes  is  defined  by  Spinoza  as  ‘constituting 
the  essence’  or  expressing  the  essentiality  of  substance; 
and  surely  that  which  has  many  essentialities,  or  natures, 
cannot  be  truly  one.  If  then  an  attribute  does,  as  Spinoza 
says,  constitute  the  nature  of  substance,  it  also  exhausts  that 
nature,  so  that  given,  as  Spinoza  insists,  only  one  substanc 
there  would  have  to  be  only  one  attribute.2 

1 Cf.  Camerer,  “Die  Lehre  Spinozas,”  p.  g et  al. 


2 This  result  follows  even  more  unambiguously  from  a statement  made 
Spinoza  in  a letter  written,  as  appears  from  an  expression  in  it,  when  he  had  : 
ready  completed  the  first  part  at  least  of  the  “Ethics.”  In  this  letter  (Letter  2), 


The  System  of  Spinoza 


295 


This  conclusion  is  immensely  strengthened  by  the  dis- 
covery that  Spinoza’s  argument  for  an  infinite  number  of 
attributes  is  faulty,  and  that  he  does  not,  therefore,  estab- 
lish this  teaching,  so  subversive  of  his  own  fundamentally 
monistic  doctrine.1  As  has  appeared,  he  argues  the  infinite 
number  of  attributes  solely  on  the  ground  of  the  absoluteness 
and  completeness  of  substance.  “ The  more  reality,  or  being, 
a thing  has,”  he  says,2  “the  greater  the  number  of  its  attri- 
butes. . . . Consequently,”  he  adds  in  the  scholium  of  the 
next  proposition,  “an  absolutely  infinite  being  must  neces- 
sarily be  defined  as  consisting  in  infinite  attributes,  each  of 
which  expresses  a certain  eternal  and  infinite  essence.”  But 
it  must  be  remembered  that  Spinoza  has  proved  the  existence 
of  infinite  substance,  or  being,  only  in  so  far  as  infinite  sub- 
stance means  “all  that  there  is,”  the  totality  of  reality. 
From  this  totality,  it  certainly  follows  that  no  existing  attri- 
bute can  be  lacking  to  the  infinite  substance ; but  it  does  not 
at  all  follow  that  the  actually  existing  attributes  are  infinite 
in  number.3 

Besides  discrediting  this  a priori  argument  for  the  infinite 
number  of  the  attributes,  it  is  necessary  now  to  challenge 
Spinoza’s  assertion,  on  the  basis  of  alleged  experience,  that 
there  are  two  attributes,  thought  and  extension.  The  diffi- 


which  is  the  reply  to  one,  dated  August,  1661,  from  his  correspondent, 
Oldenburg,  he  defines  the  attribute  exactly  as  he  later  defined  substance: 
“ By  attribute  I mean  everything  which  is  conceived  through  itself  and  in  itself, 
so  that  the  conception  of  it  does  not  involve  the  conception  of  anything  else.” 
Cf.  also  an  expression  in  Letter  4,  “an  attribute,  that  is  ...  a thing 
conceived  through  and  in  itself.”  For  a recent  restatement  of  Spinoza’s 
position,  cf.  Ebbinghaus,  “Grundzuge  der  Psychologie,”  § 27,  3,  p.  41  seq. 
For  criticism  and  discussion  of  modern  parallelism,  cf.  Taylor,  “Elements 
of  Metaphysics,”  Bk.  IV.,  chapter  2,  § «,  pp.  320  seq. 

1 Cf.  Letter  65.  2 Pt.  I.,  Prop.  9. 

3 One  of  the  keenest  contemporary  critics  of  Spinoza,  Von  Tschirnhausen, 
objected  that  if  there  are  infinite  attributes,  the  two  attributes,  consciousness 
and  extension,  should  not  be  the  only  ones  known  to  the  mind.  Cf.  Letters 
65  and  66  (Van  Vloten,  63  and  64).  In  reply  Spinoza  supposed  that  there 
are  other-than-human  minds  to  whom  the  other  attributes  are  known.  Cf. 
Letters  66  and  68  (Van  Vloten  64  and  66),  and  Camerer,  op.  cit .,  Chapter  2. 


296 


Monistic  Pluralism 


culty  is,  of  course,  with  the  so-called  attribute  of  extension; 
for  no  one  will  deny  the  one  truth  evident  in  the  very  denial 
of  it,  that  reality,  whatever  other  character  it  possesses,  has 
the  attribute  of  thought,  that  is,  consciousness.  But  Spi- 
noza’s teaching  that  extension  is  known  in  the  same  way,  as 
a second,  independent,  character  of  reality  — this  is  based 
on  mere  assumption,  is  never  argued,  and  cannot  withstand 
such  arguments  as  Leibniz  and  Berkeley  later  brought 
against  it.1  Not  only,  then,  has  Spinoza  failed  to  prove  an 
infinite  number  of  attributes;  he  has  not  demonstrated  the 
existence  of  any  attribute  save  thought. 

This  conclusion  is  fortified  by  reference,  in  the  “Ethics” 
itself,  to  certain  indications  of  an  unavowed  idealism. 
The  first  of  these  occurs  in  the  introductory  definitions  of 
Part  I.  Definition  3,  for  example,  defines  substance  as  “that 
which  is  in  itself  and  is  conceived  through  itself”;  and 
similarly,  Definitions  1,5,  and  8 successively  define  causa  sui, 
mode,  and  eternity,  by  two  parallel  clauses  of  which  the  second 
is  in  terms  of  conception.  In  the  definition  of  ‘attribute’  the 
first  of  the  parallel  clauses  is  omitted ; and  Spinoza  says, 
“By  attribute  I mean  that  which  the  intellect  perceives  as 
constituting  the  essence  of  substance.” 2 The  conceiv- 
ableness of  mode  and  attribute  is  thus,  for  Spinoza,  a 
feature  essential  to  the  definition  of  each.  But  nothing 
could  be  conceivable  if  there  were  not  a conscious  mind  to 
conceive  it,  and  the  definitions  thus  imply  the  existence, 
fundamental  to  mode,  attribute,  and  even  to  substance,  of  a 


1 Cf.  supra,  pp.  75  seq.;  121  seq. 

2 Def.  IV : Per  attributum  intelligo  id  quod  intellectus  de  substantia  per- 
cipit,  tanquam  ejusdem  essentiam  constituens.  Spinoza  does  not  seem  to 
intend  a contrast  between  the  expressions,  ‘perceive’  and  ‘conceive.’  Erd- 
mann, followed  by  other  critics  — Busolt,  for  example  — interprets  Spinoza’s 
‘attribute’  idealistically,  making  it  closely  parallel  to  Kant’s  ‘category.’  (Cf. 
Erdmann,  “History  of  Philosophy,”  translated  by  Hough,  II.,  pp.  67  seq., 
and  Busolt,  op.  cit.,  pp.  122  seq.,  who  holds  that  the  conscious  intellect  implied 
in  these  definitions  is  the  divine  intellect.)  Such  an  interpretation  seems 
to  ignore  the  realistic  aspect  of  the  attribute.  Cf.  “ Ethics,”  Pt.  I.,  Prop.  9. 


The  System  of  Spinoza 


297 


conceiving  mind.  In  similar  fashion,  the  conception  of  the 
modes  (modes  of  extension  and  not  merely  of  thought)  as 
‘all  things  which  can  fall  within  the  sphere  of  infinite  intel- 
lect’ clearly  suggests  that  the  reality  expressed  in  the  modes 
is  mental.1  Spinoza,  it  is  needless  to  add,  did  not  realize 
this  idealistic  implication  of  his  definitions.  He  is  apparently 
proceeding  on  the  rationalistic  assumption,  hardly  analyzed 
or  criticised  till  the  time  of  Kant,  that  the  existent  must 
ipso  facto  be  known. 

3.  The  inconsistency  of  Spinoza's  conception  of  God’s 

consciousness,  as  radically  different  from  the  human 

consciousness 

The  conclusion  of  this  chapter  is  that  Spinoza  taught  the 
self-consciousness  of  God.2  But  it  is  past  dispute  that  he 
thought  God’s  consciousness  to  be  utterly  different  from  that 
of  man  — as  widely  different,  he  says,  in  a passage  already 
quoted,3  as  “the  dog,  a celestial  constellation,  and  the  dog, 
a barking  animal.”  It  must  now  be  shown  that  the  radical 
and  qualitative  difference  between  God’s  consciousness  and 
man’s,  which  is  supposed  by  this  illustration,  is  inconsistent 
with  Spinoza’s  own  conception  and  with  his  argument  as 
well.  He  conceives  of  the  mind  of  a man  as  a modification 
of  the  divine  attribute,  thought ; and  he  justifies  the  doctrine 
that  thought  is  an  attribute  of  God,  or  substance,  by  the 
appeal,  already  quoted,  to  finite  experience:  “Particular 
thoughts,  or  this  or  that  thought,  are  modes  which  . . . 
express  the  nature  of  God.  God,  therefore,  possesses  the 
attribute  of  which  the  concept  is  involved  in  all  particular 
thoughts,  . . . that  is  to  say,  God  is  a thinking  being.”4  But 

1 Pt.  I.,  Prop.  16,  already  cited  supra,  p.  291.  Cf.  “Ethics,”  Pts.  II.  and 
III.,  for  cases  of  an  inexact  parallelism,  in  which  the  physical  is  really  con- 
ceived in  terms  of  the  psychical. 

2 Cf.  supra,  pp.  291  seq. 

5 Pt.  I.,  Prop.  17,  cf.  p.  292  above. 

4 Pt.  II.,  Prop,  i,  Proof. 


298 


Monistic  Pluralism 


that  thought  of  which  the  finite  mind  is  merely  a fixed  and 
definite  expression,1  which  is  argued  from  the  existence  of 
finite  thoughts,  cannot  differ  in  kind  from  human  conscious- 
ness.2 It  must  indeed  differ  as  the  whole  differs  from  the  part, 
the  complete  from  the  incomplete ; and  this  doubtless  is  Spi- 
noza’s meaning.  His  denial  of  the  likeness  of  the  infinite  to 
the  human  intellect  is  a reaction  from  the  crude  and  literal  an- 
thropomorphism of  that  traditional  theology  which  attributed 
to  God  narrow  ends,  and  human  passions.  Spinoza  vividly 
describes,  in  the  Appendix  to  Part  I,  the  tendency  of 
such  anthropomorphism.  Men  “believe,”  he  says,  “in  some 
ruler  or  rulers  of  the  universe,  . . . who  have  arranged  and 
adapted  everything  for  human  use.  They  . . . estimate  the 
nature  of  such  rulers  (having  no  information  on  the  subject) 
in  accordance  with  their  own  nature  and,  therefore,  they 
assert  that  the  gods  ordained  everything  for  the  use  of  man, 
in  order  to  bind  man  to  themselves  and  obtain  from  him  the 
highest  honor.  . . . Consider,  I pray  you,  the  results. 
Among  the  many  helps  of  nature  they  were  bound  to  find 
some  hindrances,  such  as  storms,  earthquakes,  and  diseases, 
so  they  declared  that  such  things  happen,  because  the  gods 
are  angry  at  some  wrong  done  them  by  men.”  It  is  in  his 
passionate  aversion  to  this  unworthy  form  of  anthropomor- 
phism, that  Spinoza  denies  the  likeness  of  divine  and  human 
intellect.  Such  denials  are  inconsistent  with  Spinoza’s  own 
teaching  that  finite  phenomena  are  expressions  of  the  divine 
nature. 

1 Pt.  I.,  Prop.  25,  Cor. 

2 The  doctrine  that  God’s  intellect  is  unlike  that  of  man  is  attacked  by 
Spinoza’s  keen  critic,  Von  Tschirnhausen,  on  the  basis  of  Spinoza’s  own 
doctrine  of  causality.  In  Letter  65  (Van  Vloten,  63),  Von  Tschirn- 
hausen says:  “As  the  understanding  of  God  differs  [on  Spinoza’s  view] 
from  our  understanding  as  much  in  essence  as  in  existence,  it  has,  therefore, 
nothing  in  common  with  it;  therefore  (by  “Ethics,”  Pt.  I.,  Prop.  3)  God’s 
understanding  cannot  be  the  cause  of  our  own.”  Spinoza  seems  never  to 
have  attempted  a reply  to  this  objection.  He  had,  however,  in  the  Scholium 
of  “Ethics,”  Pt.  I.,  Prop.  17,  departed  from  the  causal  theory  implied  by  the 
axioms  of  Pt.  I. 


The  System  of  Spinoza 


299 


II.  Spinoza’s  Doctrine  of  the  Modes  (Exposition  and 

Criticism) 

The  first  section  of  this  chapter  has  offered  an  outline  and 
a criticism  of  Spinoza’s  fundamental  teaching  that  God  is 
the  one  substance  manifested  in  all  finite  realities.1  These 
finite  phenomena  have  been  considered  only  so  far  as  the 
discussion  of  them  is  necessary  to  an  understanding  of 
Spinoza’s  conception  of  God,  or  substance.  To  complete 
the  view  of  Spinoza’s  metaphysics  it  is  therefore  necessary 
to  attempt  a more  detailed  discussion  of  these  finite  realities. 
Such  a discussion  of  the  modes  in  its  turn  will  illuminate 
the  doctrine  of  God,  or  substance.  It  has  been  shown 
already  that  Spinoza  includes  among  the  ‘modes’  minds 
and  bodies,  ideas  and  physical  phenomena,  in  a word,  all 
finite  phenomena  whether  psychical  or  physical.  His  most 
fundamental  grouping  of  the  modes  is  into  modes  of 
thought  (meaning  modes  of  consciousness)  and  modes  of 
extension.  He  also  distinguishes  in  Part  I.2  between  ‘ infi- 
nite ’ and  ‘ finite  ’ modes,  but  of  this  distinction  he  virtually 
makes  no  further  use  and  it  need  not  here  be  discussed.3 
Spinoza’s  doctrine  of  the  modes  as  causally  related  claims 
our  first  consideration. 

a.  The  causal  relation  of  God  to  the  modes , and  of  the 
modes  to  each  other 

The  relation  of  the  modes  to  substance  has  already  been 
discussed  in  our  consideration  of  the  nature  of  God.  Minds 
and  bodies,  ideas  and  physical  changes,  — all  finite  phe- 
nomena or  modes,  — are  manifestations  of  the  one  under- 

1 Spinoza  usually,  if  not  invariably,  contrasts  the  finite  as  the  ‘included’ 
with  the  Infinite  as  the  ‘all-including.’ 

2 Prop.  2i  and  Prop.  22. 

3 For  consideration  of  the  difficult  problem  here  involved,  cf.  Appendix, 
p.  468. 


Monistic  Pluralism 


too 


lying  reality.  They  stand  to  God  in  the  relation  of  parts  to 
a whole  which  is  prior  to  them  — which  expresses  itself  in 


the  parts  instead  of  being  made  up  of  them.  Spinoza  some- 
times describes  this  as  the  relation  of  the  modes  to  an  im- 
manent (not  a transient)  cause ; and  this  immanent  cause  he 
sometimes  calls  natura  naturans  in  distinction  from  natura 
naturata,  or  the  sum  of  the  modes.1  In  quite  a different 
sense  of  the  word  ‘cause,’  he  conceives  each  mode  as 
cause  of,  and  in  turn  as  effect  of,  some  other.  That  is 
to  say,  Spinoza,  like  Kant,  recognizes  and  does  not  con- 
fuse two  sorts  of  causality.  The  first,  the  immanent  caus- 
ality of  God,  or  substance,  is  for  Spinoza  the  relation  of 
organism  to  member,  of  constituting  whole  to  part.  The 
second  is  the  temporal  relation  of  mode  to  mode ; and  it  is 
this  which  we  have  now  to  consider.  Spinoza  teaches,  in 
the  first  place,  that  the  modes  of  each  attribute  are  causally 
related  to  each  other,  in  such  wise  that  each  is  the  temporal, 
or  phenomenal,  cause,  of  one  that  follows  and  in  the  same 
sense  the  effect  of  one  that  precedes.  “ Every  individual  thing 
(quodcumque  singulare ),”  he  says,  “that  is,  everything  which 
is  finite  and  has  a determined  existence  cannot  exist,  nor  be 
determined  to  act  (ad  operandum ) unless  it  be  determined  to 
exist  and  to  act  by  another  cause  which  is  finite  and  has  a 
determined  existence ; and  in  its  turn  this  cause  also  cannot 
exist  nor  be  determined  to  act  unless  it  is  determined  to 
exist  and  to  act  by  another  which  also  is  finite  and  has  a de- 
termined existence,  and  so  on  ad  infinitum.”  He  argues  this, 
on  the  ground  that  a thing  as  finite  cannot  be  regarded  as 
if  caused  by  God.  “That  which  is  finite  and  has  a con- 
ditioned existence  cannot  be  produced  by  the  absolute  nature 
of  any  attribute  of  God.”  2 Therefore,  Spinoza  concludes  (as- 
suming that  for  every  character,  even  finiteness,  there  must 
be  a cause),  the  modes,  as  finite,  are  caused  by  each  other. 
This  argument  for  phenomenal  causality  is  not  beyond 


1 Pt.  I.,  Prop.  29,  Schol. 

2 Pt.  I.,  Prop.  28,  Proof. 


The  System  of  Spinoza 


301 


criticism  — for  it  might  well  be  objected  that  it  contradicts 
God’s  infinity,  to  admit  a character,  even  finiteness,  which 
does  not  follow  from  his  nature.1  But  the  truth,  that  finite 
things  and  events  are  causally  connected  with  each  other, 
will  be  denied  by  no  one.  For,  as  Kant  has  shown,  causal 
connectedness  is  an  essential  feature  of  the  finite  phenom- 
enon.2 

One  comes  almost  with  surprise,  in  the  very  midst  of  Spi- 
noza’s theology,  upon  this  doctrine  of  the  causal  connection 
of  the  finite  modes,  one  with  another.  It  marks  the  greatness 
of  the  thinker,  Spinoza,  that  he  should  thus  unite  with  his 
rigid  doctrine  of  the  dependence  of  all  things  on  divine 
necessity,  a truly  scientific  doctrine  of  the  strict  dependence 
of  event  on  event.  Every  natural  event,  he  teaches, 
every  mechanical  change  of  position,  every  chemical  reaction, 
and,  no  less  truly,  every  thought,  wish,  and  intention  is 
determined  by  some  preceding  event.  Yet  Spinoza  carefully 
subordinates  the  temporal,  or  finite,  relation  of  the  modes  with 
each  other  to  the  deeper,  the  eternally  necessary  relation  to 
God.  Thus,  in  the  scholium  to  this  very  proposition  which 
defines  phenomenal  causality,  he  insists  on  the  truth  of 
the  eternal  causality,  in  the  words,  “All  things  which  are, 
are  in  God  ( omnia  quae  sunt  in  Deo  sunt)  and  so  depend  on 
God  that  without  him  they  can  neither  be  nor  be  conceived 
( sine  ipso  nec  esse , non  concipi  possunt).  ” The  causal  de- 
pendence of  the  modes  on  each  other  is  in  fact,  itself,  a result 
of  the  divine  necessity.3 

1 Cf.  Camerer,  Chapter  3,  p.  50. 

2 Cf.  supra,  p.  210,  on  Kant’s  discussion  of  causality. 

3 This  truth  is  often  expressed  in  Part  II.,  by  saying,  not  that  one  thought 
or  motion  depends  on  another  thought  or  motion,  but  that  it  depends  on  “ God 
not  in  so  far  as  he  is  infinite,  but  in  so  far  as  he  is  considered  as  affected 
by  another  idea  of  a particular,  actually  existing  thing”  (Pt.  II.,  Prop.  9). 
When  Spinoza  speaks  of  the  contingency  of  finite  phenomena  he,  therefore, 
refers  in  the  first  instance,  not  to  the  fact  that  everything  in  the  universe  is 
conditioned  by  some  other  thing,  but  to  the  truth  “ all  things  are  determined 
by  the  necessity  of  the  divine  nature  to  exist  and  act  in  a certain  way.” 
(Pt.  I.,  Prop.  29.) 


302 


Monistic  Pluralism 


Setting  aside  its  occasional  inconsistencies,  we  may  there- 
fore formulate  Spinoza’s  doctrine  of  the  two  causalities,  in- 
finite and  finite,  eternal  and  temporal,  as  follows:  every 
thing  or  event  in  the  universe  may  be  looked  at  from  two 
points  of  view.  It  may  be  regarded  in  relation  to  similar 
finite  facts,  or  phenomena,  and,  as  thus  regarded,  it  will  be 
found  to  be  necessarily  connected  with  them,  determined 
by  them,  and  in  turn  determining  them.  But  the  finite  thing 
is  also  to  be  regarded  in  another  way,  as  related  to  the  under- 
lying one  reality.  As  thus  regarded,  in  its  relation  to  God, 
it  is  an  expression,  a necessary  manifestation,  of  this  divine 
nature. 

b.  The  independence  and  the  parallelism  of  the  two  mode 

series 

A second  feature  of  Spinoza’s  doctrine  of  the  modes  is  the 
teaching  that  the  causal  relation  of  the  finite  modes  to  each 
other  holds  only  between  the  modes  which  manifest  a single 
attribute  of  God;  in  other  words,  that  a thought  mode  is 
causally  related  only  to  other  thought  modes,  and  that  an 
extension  mode  is  causally  related  only  to  other  modes  of 
extension,  whereas  thought  and  extension  modes  are  not 
interrelated.  This  doctrine  follows  logically  from  Spinoza’s 
teaching  that  the  attributes  are  independent,  one  of  the  other. 
The  first  complete  statement  of  it,  in  the  “Ethics,”  occurs  in 
the  sixth  proposition  of  Part  II.1  “The  modes  of  any  attri- 
bute of  God,  have  God  as  their  cause,  in  so  far  as  he  is  re- 
garded ( consideratur ) under  that  attribute  of  which  they  are 
modes ; and  not  in  so  far  as  he  is  regarded  under  any  other 
attribute.”  Spinoza  argues  this  by  reference  to  that  propo- 
sition of  Part  1?  which  asserts  that  “every  attribute  of  the 
one  substance  should  be  conceived  by  itself.”  The  implied 
argument  for  this  assertion  is  presumably  to  be  found  in  the 
definitions  of  attribute  and  of  substance.  Attribute  is  what 

1 Cf.  Pt.  II.,  Prop,  s ; Pt.  III.,  Prop.  2.  2 Prop.  ro. 


The  System  of  Spinoza 


303 


is  perceived  as  constituting  the  essence  of  substance,  and  since 
substance  is  that  which  exists  through  itself,  therefore  (Spi- 
noza implies)  the  attribute,  the  essence  of  substance,  must  exist 
through  itself.1  There  is  indeed  no  gainsaying  this  argument 
on  the  basis  of  these  definitions.  And  granting  the  existence 
of  a plurality  of  attributes  and  of  the  two  known  attributes, 
thought  and  extension,  it  follows  from  the  definitions  just 
quoted  that  each  attribute  is  conceived  through  itself,  and 
that,  therefore,  the  modes  of  one  attribute  are  unaffected  by 
the  modes  of  any  other : in  particular,  that  ideas  follow  from 
ideas  only,  and  that  physical  phenomena  follow  from  physical 
phenomena  only,  so  that  idea  is  unaffected  by  physical  change 
or  physical  phenomenon  by  idea. 

The  objection  which  at  once  suggests  itself  is  that  this 
denial  of  an  interrelation  between  the  modes  of  the  attributes, 
based  as  it  is  on  the  conception  of  the  self-dependence  of  each 
attribute,  really  militates  against  the  doctrine  of  the  unity  of 
substance.  If,  on  the  one  hand,  the  essence  of  substance  is 
constituted  by  thought  and  extension,  and  necessarily  mani- 
fested in  thought  modes  and  extension  modes;  and  if,  on 
the  other  hand,  the  attribute,  thought,  is  independent  of  the 
attribute,  extension,  and  thought  modes  independent  of 
extension  modes  — it  seems  difficult  to  conceive  of  the  uni- 
verse as  fundamentally  one.  Spinoza  supposes  himself  to 
rescue  the  unity  by  insisting  on  the  perfect  parallelism  of  the 
attributes  and  of  the  mode  series.  Because  substance  is  one 
and  the  same,  he  argues,  “the  order  and  connection  of  ideas 
is  the  same  as  the  order  and  connection  of  things,  . . . that 
is,”  2 he  adds  in  a corollary,  “whatsoever  follows  in  extension 
( jormaliter ) from  God’s  infinite  nature,  follows  in  thought 
(objective)  in  the  same  order  and  connection,  from  the  idea 
of  God.”  3 In  other  words,  a thought  mode  corresponds 
with  every  extension  mode  in  such  wise  that  finite  minds 
are  paralleled  by  finite  bodies,  and  thoughts  by  changes 

J Once  more,  cf.  Letter  2.  2 Pt.  II.,  Prop.  7 and  Cor. 

3 For  this  use  of  ‘formaliter’  and  ‘objective,’  cf.  Chapter  2,  pp.  29  seq. 


304 


Monistic  Pluralism 


in  the  physical  world.  It  will,  however,  still  be  urged  that 
Spinoza  has  not  by  this  device  reconciled  the  unity  of  sub- 
stance with  the  independence  of  the  mode  series  and  of  the 
attributes;  parallelism  itself  — it  will  be  argued  — implies 
the  separateness  of  the  two  parallels.  Spinoza  never  meets 
this  difficulty,  but  he  doggedly  asserts  the  unity  of  sub- 
stance. “Conscious  substance  ( substantia  cogitans)  and 
extended  substance  are,”  he  says,1  “one  and  the  same  sub- 
stance which  is  comprehended  ( comprehenditur ) now  under 
the  one  attribute  and  now  under  the  other.  So  also  a mode 
of  extension  and  the  idea  of  that  mode  are  one  and  the 
same  thing  but  expressed  in  two  ways.”  So  far  as  the 
modes  alone  are  concerned,  one  might  accept  this  doctrine, 
and  regard  the  opposition  of  thought  to  extension  as  an 
illusion  of  the  finite  consciousness.  But  this  is  not  Spi- 
noza’s meaning.  For  he  teaches  that  thought  and  exten- 
sion are  attributes  and  not  mere  modes;  that  each  “is 
conceived  through  itself  and  in  itself”  and  constitutes  the 
essence  of  substance.  The  difference  between  the  attributes 
is,  in  other  words,  ultimate ; and  it  is  utterly  unjustifiable  in 
view  of  it  to  assert  that  extended  substance  and  thinking 
substance  are  one  and  the  same  thing. 

To  recapitulate:  (i)  Spinoza’s  teaching  that  ideas  and 
physical  changes  are  not  interrelated  is  based  on  his  conception 
of  the  independence  of  the  attributes ; but  this  latter  concep- 
tion contradicts  the  fundamental  doctrine  of  the  unity  of 
substance.  (2)  Spinoza’s  theory  that  the  mode  series  are 
parallel  presupposes  this  undemonstrated  independence,  each 
from  each,  of  the  attributes,  and  thus  of  the  mode  series,  and 
is  therefore  an  inadequate  attempt  to  reconcile  the  inde- 
pendence of  the  attributes  with  the  unity  of  substance.  From 
a metaphysical  standpoint  there  is  thus  no  sufficient  defence 
for  parallelism.  As  a scientific  hypothesis,  a formulation 

1 Pt.  II.,  Prop.  7,  Schol.  Cf.  Pt.  III.,  Prop.  2,  Schol.:  “Mens  et  cor- 
pus una  eademque  res.  . . .” 


The  System  of  Spinoza 


305 


of  the  apparent  concomitance  of  physical  with  psychical, 
it  is  none  the  less  a harmless  — possibly  even  a useful  — ■ 
hypothesis. 

With  the  account  of  Spinoza’s  doctrine  of  the  modes  the 
outline  of  his  metaphysical  doctrine  is  completed.  It  may 
be  briefly  summarized  in  the  following  statements:  The 
ultimate  reality  is  a being,  God,  or  substance,  which  is  mani- 
fested in,  not  made  up  by,  all  finite  realities.  God  has  an 
infinite  number  of  attributes  each  expressing  his  essence,  and 
of  these  attributes  two  — consciousness  and  extension  — are 
known ; in  other  words,  God  is  infinitely  self-conscious  1 and 
infinitely  extended.  The  groups  of  modes  express  the 
different  attributes  and  are  independent  each  of  each;  but 
within  each  group  the  different  modes  are  related  by  a tem- 
poral necessity.  The  outcome  for  Spinoza  of  this  meta- 
physical system  is  a conception  of  man’s  nature  culminating 
in  an  ethical  doctrine  of  profound  practical  worth.  The  ra- 
tional man,  Spinoza  teaches,  will  look  on  all  the  course  of  his- 
tory, all  the  events  of  life,  as  necessary  expressions  of  God’s 
nature,  and  he  will  therefore  acquiesce  in  them.  He  will 
know  himself  also  as  sharing  with  all  other  men  the  preroga- 
tive of  manifesting  God’s  nature.  Freed,  by  this  adequate 
knowledge  of  himself  and  of  all  nature,  from  the  dominion 
of  regret,  of  anxiety,  and  of  passion,  a man  “ fives  in  obedience 
to  reason”  and  attains  to  blessedness  which  is  “love  towards 
God.” 

The  discussion,  at  this  point,  of  Spinoza’s  practical  philos- 
ophy would  be  an  unwarranted  digression.2  There  is  need, 
however,  for  a recapitulation  of  the  criticisms  to  be  made  on 
his  metaphysics.  It  may  be  shown  that  these  criticisms 
reduce  to  three.  The  doctrine  of  the  independence  of  the 
attributes,  one  of  another,  is,  in  the  first  place,  inconsistent 

1 Cf.  p.  291. 

3 For  a summary,  based  on  Pts.  II.-V.,  of  the  “Ethics,”  cf.  Appendix,  pp 
469  seq. 


3°6 


Monistic  Pluralism 


with  Spinoza’s  monism.  The  doctrine  that  extension  is  an 
attribute  of  substance  is  not,  in  the  second  place,  established. 
Purged  of  this  inconsistent  pluralism  and  of  the  unsupported 
admission  of  the  ultimate  reality  of  extension,  Spinoza’s 
system  would  obviously  reduce  to  a numerically  monistic, 
qualitatively  idealistic  philosophy  in  which  Spinoza’s  God 
would  become  a conscious  self  inclusive  of  all  lesser  realities — 
of  the  so-called  physical  as  well  as  of  the  psychical.  Against 
this  conception  may  be  urged  the  final  and  most  fundamental 
criticism  on  Spinoza’s  system.  Spinoza,  as  we  have  seen, 
does  not  demonstrate  the  existence  of  his  absolute  substance, 
God.  His  basal  certainty  is  that  “all  that  is  exists,”  and  he 
illicitly  interprets  this  truism,  significant  yet  in  itself  empty, 
in  the  sense  of  his  great  doctrine : ultimate  reality  is  a single, 
self-manifesting  being. 

It  does  not  follow  from  this  radical  criticism  that  the  phi- 
losophy of  Spinoza  is  of  slight  value ; nor  even  that  its  value 
consists  in  the  adequacy  of  its  scientific  conceptions,  the 
accuracy  of  its  psychological  analysis,  and  the  nobility  of  its 
ethical  teaching.  It  has  all  these  virtues,  but,  in  addition, 
great  metaphysical  significance.  For  the  first  time  in  the 
history  of  modern  philosophy,  Spinoza  formulates  in  definite 
outlines  a strictly  numerical  monism,  the  conception  of  an 
all-of-reality  which  is  also  a One,  of  a whole  of  reality  which 
is  more-than-a-sum,  of  a unique  being  which  expresses  itself 
in  the  many  finite  phenomena.  The  mere  conception, 
though  insufficiently  established,  is  of  real  value.  Idealis- 
tically interpreted,  it  becomes  the  central  truth  of  the  post- 
Kantian  philosophy,  for  Fichte,  Schelling,  Schopenhauer,  and, 
above  all,  Hegel  attempt  the  demonstration,  lacking  in  Spi- 
noza, of  the  existence  of  an  absolute  substance,  and  con- 
ceive this  substance  as  absolute  self. 


CHAPTER  IX 


THE  ADVANCE  TOWARD  MONISTIC  SPIRITUALISM: 

THE  SYSTEMS  OF  FICHTE,  SCHELLING,  AND  SCHO- 
PENHAUER 

“Wahrend  in  Frankreich  eine  Philosophic  aufkam  die  den  Geist 
verkorperte,  . . . erhob  sich  in  Deutschland  eine  Philosophie  die  . . . 
nur  den  Geist  als  etwas  wirkliches  annahm.”  — Heine. 

The  philosophical  systems  of  Kant  and  of  Spinoza,  widely 
as  they  differ  in  purpose,  in  teaching,  and  in  emphasis,  do 
yet  lead  to  advance  in  the  same  lines.  The  fundamental 
errors  and  inconsistencies  in  Spinoza’s  doctrine  are,  as  has 
just  appeared,  his  failure  to  argue  cogently  for  the  absolute 
numerical  oneness  of  reality ; and  his  qualitatively  dualistic 
teaching  that  the  absolute  One,  or  substance,  has  the  two 
attributes,  thought  and  extension.  Kant,  on  the  other  hand, 
supplies  the  first  steps  of  a valid  argument  for  the  absolute 
oneness  of  ultimate  reality,  but  apparently  he  does  not  hold, 
and  certainly  he  does  not  systematically  formulate,  the  con- 
ception. And  Kant,  as  well  as  Spinoza,  is  a dualist,  though 
his  dualism,  following  as  it  does  on  the  idealistic  teachings 
of  Leibniz  and  of  Berkeley,  is  not  of  so  crude  a sort  as 
Spinoza’s.  Yet  Kant’s  things-in-themselves,  though  de- 
spoiled of  all  positive  characters,  are  forms  of  an  alleged 
reality  independent  of  consciousness,  so  that  Kant  unques- 
tionably holds  a dualistic  doctrine.1  Advance  upon  Kant 
as  upon  Spinoza  is  naturally,  therefore,  in  these  two  direc- 

1 It  must  be  admitted  that  here  and  there  a critic  disputes  this  assertion, 
on  the  ground  of  Kant’s  statements  (cf.  supra,  pp.  261)  that  the  free  moral 
self  is  thing-in-itself.  In  the  opinion  of  the  writer,  however,  Kant’s  pre- 
dominant doctrine  should  be  construed  from  his  far  more  frequent  assertions 
of  the  distinction  between  things-in-themselves  and  consciousness,  rather  than 
from  this  uncharacteristic  teaching,  significant  as  it  is.  Cf.,  on  this  subject, 

307 


308  The  Advance  toward  Monistic  Spiritualism 

tions : the  formulation  of  a demonstrated  numerical  monism, 
and  the  supplanting  of  an  inconsistent  qualitative  dualism 
by  a complete,  idealistic  monism. 

The  German  philosophers  of  the  waning  eighteenth  and  of 
the  dawning  nineteenth  century  were  predominantly  influ- 
enced both  by  Kant  and  by  Spinoza,  though  in  slightly 
varying  proportion.  And  it  is  noticeable  that  their  systems 
correct  those  of  their  great  predecessors  in  precisely  the  two 
directions  already  named.  Each  one  of  them  formulates, 
and  attempts  to  base  on  valid  argument,  the  doctrine  that 
the  all-of-reality  is  an  absolute  One,  and  that  this  One  is, 
through  and  through,  a reality  of  consciousness.  The 
idealism  of  these  post-Kantian  teachers  for  the  most  part 
takes  the  form  of  an  attack  on  Kant’s  things-in-themselves. 
Their  conception  of  the  absolute  One  of  consciousness  allies 
it  both  with  Spinoza’s  substance  (in  its  thought  attribute), 
and  with  Kant’s  transcendental  self,  in  its  relation  to  the 
empirical  selves.  Ostensibly,  therefore,  each  of  these  sys- 
tems is  an  idealistic  monism  and  teaches  that  ultimate  reality 
is  constituted  by  an  absolute  self.  Three  of  the  four  systems, 
however,  are  marred  by  a logical  contradiction : while  in- 
sisting on  the  conception  of  ultimate  reality  as  absolute  self, 
they  virtually  yield  either  the  absoluteness  or  the  selfhood 
— in  other  words,  either  the  numerical  monism  or  the  quali- 
tative and  idealistic  monism  of  the  system.  Hegel  is  the  first 
to  formulate  a complete  and  consistent  monistic  idealism; 
and  the  systems  of  Fichte,  Schelling,  and  Schopenhauer 
must  be  regarded,  therefore,  as  advancing  toward  a goal  of 
which  they  just  fall  short. 

A.  The  Teaching  of  Fichte 

The  temptation  to  interest  oneself  in  the  personality  of  the 
philosopher  as  a preliminary  to  the  consideration  of  his  argu- 

Windelband,  “ Die  verschiedenen  Phasen  der  Kantischen  Lehre  vom  Ding- 
an-sich,”  Vierteljahrschr.  j.  wissensch.  Philos .,  1876. 


The  Philosophy  of  Fichte 


309 


ment  has  nowhere  greater  justification  than  in  the  case  of 
Johann  Gottlieb  Fichte.  He  himself  has  said  that  a man’s 
philosophy  is  the  story  of  his  heart,  and  though  this  may 
well  be  questioned  as  a statement  of  universal  validity,  it  is 
significantly  true  of  Fichte  himself.  His  life  was  one  of  sharp 
external  contrasts,  but  these  followed  and  never  determined 
the  course  of  his  thought  and  the  direction  of  his  will.  The 
unchildlike  concern  of  his  boyish  years  for  moral,  not  to  say 
for  theological,  problems  was  expressed  in  self-denying 
actions  as  well  as  in  the  famous  sermons  to  the  geese  whom 
he  herded.  His  intellectual  divergence,  during  his  university 
days,  from  the  orthodox  doctrine  of  his  time  was  followed  by 
his  abandonment  of  the  preacher’s  profession,  spite  of  his 
preparation  for  it.  The  conviction,  gained  at  this  same  pe- 
riod, that  nature  determinism  is  the  valid  system  of  philosophy 
filled  him  with  despair,  but  never  affected  his  purpose  to 
square  his  life  with  his  philosophy;  in  the  wreck  of  his  ideals 
he  never  dreamed  of  abandoning  metaphysics  nor  of  forcing 
its  conclusions  to  his  desires.  In  the  same  spirit,  ten  years 
after,  he  lived  out  his  later  doctrine  of  ethical  idealism,  the 
doctrine  that  a man’s  environment  is  the  object  of  his  obliga- 
tion, by  resigning  his  professorship  at  Jena  when  its  freedom 
of  teaching  had  been  challenged. 

Fichte  has  himself  sketched  for  us  the  progress  of  his 
thought,  as  it  has  just  been  outlined.  From  his  early  ac- 
ceptance of  the  current  form  of  theism,  he  had  been  driven  — 
by  the  necessity,  he  believed,  of  logical  reasoning  — into  a 
doctrine  of  physical  determinism : the  theory  that  our  acts 
and  feelings  and  volitions  are  determined  by  an  endless 
chain  of  physical  causes.  Absolutely  honest  and  seeing  no 
escape  from  this  doctrine,  Fichte  accepted  it  fully  and  de- 
spairingly. The  philosophic  cloud  lifted  only  when  he  read 
Kant’s  “Kritik  of  Practical  Reason.”  Then  a great  light 
dawned  for  him.  He  realized  that  a conscious  self  can 
never  be  subject  to  the  laws  of  objects  which  are,  in  their 
real  nature,  mere  phenomena  — - that  is,  creations  of  con- 


310  The  Advance  toward  Monistic  Spiritualism 

sciousness.  From  the  exposition  of  Kant’s  doctrine,  with 
which  his  productive  work  began,  he  went  on  to  formulate 
his  own  system.  This  consists  fundamentally  in  a develop- 
ment of  Kant’s  conception  of  the  transcendental  I.  The 
thing-in-itself  vanishes  and  the  transcendental  self  becomes 
for  Fichte  an  absolute  though  impersonal  self,  inclusive  of 
finite  selves  whose  deepest  reality  consists  in  their  moral 
striving  to  apprehend  and  to  realize  their  own  infinity. 

I.  Fichte’s  ‘Popular  Philosophy’ 

Fichte’s  first  book  of  technical  significance,  published  in 
1794,  is  the  “Grundlage  der  gesammten  Wissenschafts- 
lehre,”  commonly  known  as  “ Wissenschaftslehre,”  or  “Sci- 
ence of  Knowledge,”  a complete  and  detailed  account  of  his 
metaphysical  system.  It  was  followed,  in  1796,  by  a work 
on  ethics,  the  “Grundlage  des  Naturrechts.”  It  is  probable 
that  Fichte  contemplated  a further,  regular  development  of 
his  system,  in  the  form  of  expositions  of  the  philosophy  of 
nature,  of  religion,  and  of  art.  But  his  departure  from  Jena, 
with  the  circumstances  which  embittered  it,  and  ■ — - still 
more  — his  patriotic  absorption  in  the  political  problems  of 
those  years  preceding  the  war  for  freedom,  broke  in  upon  the 
plan  for  a development  of  his  system.  From  this  time  on, 
Fichte’s  books  are  either  popular  expositions  and  applications 
of  his  doctrine,  or  are  restatements  of  it.1  To  the  first  class 
belongs  his  “Bestimmung  des  Menschen  (Vocation  of 
Man),”  a brilliant,  distinctly  autobiographical  account  of  the 
progress  of  a thinker  from  a position  of  physical  determinism, 
through  a phase  of  idealistic  phenomenalism,  into  a trium- 
phant sort  of  ethical  idealism.  The  little  work  is  written 
throughout  in  the  first  person  as  befits  a philosophical  autobiog- 
raphy ; but  it  is  not  purely  autobiographical.  Rather,  Fichte 
undertakes  the  story  of  the  thought-progress  of  a typical  and 


Cf.  Appendix,  p.  538. 


The  Philosophy  of  Fichte 


311 

logical  thinker  who  begins,  as  he  had  begun,  at  the  stand- 
point of  determinism.  So  he  says  in  the  preface  that  “ this  I is 
by  no  means  the  author ; he  hopes,  on  the  contrary,  that  his 
reader  may  assume  the  role.”  The  style  of  the  book  is  clear 
and  very  direct ; it  is  eloquent,  often  by  its  very  simplicity  and 
by  the  reaction  of  the  thought  on  the  emotion  of  the  imaginary 
hero. 

a.  The  -first  stage  oj  philosophic  thought:  scientific  deter- 
minism 

In  Book  I.,  named  “Doubt,”  I am  confronted  with  the 
question,  “What  am  I and  what  is  my  vocation?”1  To 
answer  the  question,  I look  out  upon  nature,  convinced  that 
I too  belong  to  the  world  of  nature.  And  I at  once  discover 
that  every  nature  object  “is  throughout  determined;  it  is 
what  it  is  and  is  absolutely  nothing  else.”  2 Its  qualities  are, 
furthermore,  determined  by  those  of  all  other  nature  phe- 
nomena. For,  “Nature  is  a connected  whole;  in  every 
moment,  every  single  part  . . . must  be  what  it  is,  because 
all  the  others  are  what  they  are,  and  you  could  move  no  grain 
of  sand  from  its  place  without  making  some  change  through- 
out all  the  parts  of  the  immeasureable  whole.  But  every 
moment  of  this  duration  is  determined  by  all  the  past  mo- 
ments, and  will  determine  all  future  moments.  You  can- 
not, therefore,  in  the  present  moment,  imagine  any  difference 
in  the  position  of  any  grain  of  sand,  without  being  obliged 
to  think  of  all  the  past  and  all  the  future  as  changed.”  3 And 
since  I myself  “ am  not  what  I am  because  I think  or  will  it ; ” 4 
since  rather  I find  myself  existing  and  thinking  and  am 
obliged  to  infer  some  cause  of  me  which  is  other  than  myself, 

1 Werke,  II.,  p.  169;  translation,  by  William  Smith,  Open  Court  edition, 
p.  1 (all  the  references  in  the  notes  to  the  “Vocation  of  Man”  are  to 
this  edition).  The  student  should  not  fail  to  read  this  work. 

2 Werke,  II.,  p.  1722,  translation,  p.  51. 

3 Werke,  II.,  p.  1782;  translation,  p.  n!. 

4 Werke,  II.,  p,  1812;  translation,  p.  is2. 


312  The  Advance  toward  Monistic  Spiritualism 

evidently,  therefore,  I am  ‘one  of  the  manifestations  of  the 
nature  force.’ 1 Yes,  “I  myself  with  all  that  I call  mine  am 
a link  in  the  chain  of  this  stem  nature  necessity,”  “I  am 
a determined  being  whose  beginning  was  at  a definite  time. 
I did  not  come  into  being  through  myself  but  through  another 
power  without  me  . . . through  the  universal  power  of 
nature.”  2 It  is  true  that  I seem  to  myself  to  have  freedom 
and  independence,  but  this  is  readily  explained  as  my  con- 
sciousness of  the  force  of  nature  welling  up  within  me,  un- 
checked by  any  other  manifestations  of  it  in  other  persons  or 
objects.  “Freedom  is  absolutely  impossible.  . . . All  that 
I have  been,  all  that  I am,  and  all  that  I am  to  be,  I have 
been,  am,  and  shall  be,  of  necessity.”  3 

This  conception  richly  satisfies  my  understanding.  It 
orders  and  connects  all  the  objects  of  my  knowledge : the 
facts  of  my  consciousness,  of  my  bodily  constitution,  of  the 
world  without  me.4  But,  alas,  it  does  violence  to  my  ‘deepest 
intuitions  and  wishes.’  My  heart  is  anguished  and  tom  by 
the  doctrine  which  soothes  my  understanding.  I cannot 
apply  the  doctrine  to  my  action,  “ for  I do  not  act : nature 
acts  in  me.  To  make  myself  something  other  than  that  to 
which  I am  destined  by  nature  is  impossible,  for  I do  not 
make  myself.  Nature  makes  me  and  makes  all  that  I am 
to  be.  . . . I am  under  the  pitiless  power  of  stem  nature 
necessity.”  5 

b.  The  second  stage  oj  philosophic  thought:  phenomenalistic 

idealism 

Book  I.  ends  with  this  despairing  acknowledgment  of  the 
truth  of  physical  determinism.  In  Book  II.,  named  “ Knowl- 
edge (Wissen),”  the  fallacy  which  underlies  this  type  of 

1 Werke,  II.,  p.  1832 ; translation,  p.  181  (cf.  p.  142). 

2 Werke,  II.,  p.  1792’  3;  translation,  p.  131. 

3 Werke,  II.,  pp.  1842  and  1831;  translation,  pp.  191  and  171. 

* Werke,  II.,  pp.  1843  seq. ; translation,  pp.  193  seq. 

6 Werke,  II.,  p.  1893  (cf.  p.  1963  seq.) ; translation,  p.  252  (cf.  p.  32  seq.) 


The  Philosophy  of  Fichte  313 

determinism  is  set  forth  in  the  form  of  a dialogue  between 
myself  and  a keen  philosophic  reasoner,  who  is  designated  as 
‘The  Spirit.’  He  assures  me  that  I am  trembling  at  phan- 
toms of  my  own  creation.  “Take  courage,”  he  says,  “hear 
me,  answer  my  questions.”  Under  guidance  of  his  skilful 
questioning,  I then  convince  myself,  step  by  step,  that  my 
early  deterministic  philosophy  was  invalidated  by  my  wrong 
conception  of  nature  and  of  nature  objects.  I had  started 
out  with  the  assumption  that  I belong  to  the  class  of  nature 
objects,  whereas  every  nature  object  is  simply  the  construction 
of  my  own  consciousness.1  The  colors,  sounds,  and  textures 
of  which  it  is  composed  are  my  sensations ; 2 its  spatial  form 
is  my  way  of  perceiving  visual  and  tactual  sensations;3  its 
relations  — of  causal  connection,  for  example  — are  my 
thoughts  about  the  sensations  and  the  forms.4  “And  with 
this  insight,  O mortal,”  exclaims  the  Spirit,  whose  question- 
ing has  led  to  this  conclusion,  “receive  thy  freedom  and  thy 
eternal  deliverance  from  the  fear  that  tormented  thee.  No 
longer  wilt  thou  tremble  before  a necessity  which  exists  only 
in  thy  thought ; no  longer  wilt  thou  fear  to  be  overborne  by 
things  which  are  made  by  thyself.  ...  As  long  as  thou 
couldst  believe  that  such  a system  of  things  existed  inde- 
pendent of  thee  . . . and  that  thou  mightest  thyself  be  a 
link  in  the  chain  of  this  system,  thy  fear  was  justified.  Now 
that  thou  hast  realized  that  all  this  exists  only  in  thee  and 
through  thee,  thou  wilt  not  fear  before  that  which  thou  hast 
known  as  thine  own  creation.”  5 

But  though  I am  delivered  from  the  dread  of  nature  neces- 
sity, I am  assailed  by  a terror  still  more  pitiless.  “Wait,”  I 
cry,  “deceitful  Spirit!  Dost  thou  boast  of  delivering  me? 
. . . Thou  destroyest  necessity  only  by  annihilating  all 

1 Werke,  II.,  pp.  235s,  239s  et  al;  translation,  pp.  77-78;  82-83. 

2 Werke,  II.,  p.  202  seq.;  translation,  p.  38  seq. 

8 Werke,  II.,  pp.  232  seq.;  translation,  pp.  74  seq.  Notice  that  Fichte 
adopts  Kant’s  space  theory.  Cf.  supra,  Chapter  7,  pp.  200  seq. 

4 Werke,  II.,  pp.  213  et  al.-,  translation,  pp.  52  et  al. 

6 Werke,  II.,  p.  2403 ; translation,  p.  834. 


314  The  Advance  toward  Monistic  Spiritualism 

existence.  . . . Absolutely  nothing  exists  except  ideas, 
mere  shadows  of  reality.  . . . There  is  nothing  permanent 
without  or  within  me,  but  mere  endless  change.  I know  no 
being  — not  even  my  own.  There  is  no  being.  I myself 
know  not  and  exist  not.  Images  exist : they  are  all  that 
exist.  ...  I am  myself  one  of  those  images:  no,  I am 
not  even  that,  but  the  confused  image  of  an  image  !”  1 To  this 
cry  of  anguish  the  Spirit  replies : “ Thou  art  right  to  seek 
reality  behind  the  mere  appearance.  . . . But  thou  wouldest 
labor  in  vain  to  gain  it  through  and  by  thy  knowledge.  If 
thou  hast  no  other  means  of  seizing  on  reality,  thou  wilt 
never  find  it.  But  thou  hast  the  means.  Only  use  it.” 

c.  The  third  and  -final  stage  of  philosophic  thought: 
ethical  idealism 

So  ends  Book  II.,  on  knowledge.  As  is  evident,  it  is  a 
summary,  in  highly  dramatic  form,  and  in  Kantian  phrase- 
ology, of  Hume’s  idealistic  phenomenalism : the  doctrine 
that  ideas  only  — and  neither  spirit  nor  matter  — have  ex- 
istence. Book  III.,  entitled  “Faith,”  sets  forth  Fichte’s  own 
doctrine  of  ethical  idealism.  Faith  it  should  be  noted,  in 
Fichte’s,  as  in  Kant’s,  use  of  the  term,  is  not  opposed  to 
thought,  but  only  to  knowledge,  in  an  unduly  narrow  use  of  the 
latter  word.  Knowledge  means  to  Fichte  the  perception  of 
scientific  fact,  outer  and  inner,  the  consciousness  of  physical 
phenomena,  that  is,  of  things,  and  of  psychical  phenomena, 
that  is,  of  ideas.  Faith,  on  the  contrary,  is  the  immediate 
and  certain  consciousness  of  myself,2  in  active,  moral  relations 
with  other  finite  selves,  and  thus  with  the  absolute  self,  or 
God. 

This  result  is  reached  by  an  analysis  of  the  moral  conscious- 
ness and  its  presuppositions.  In  brief,  the  argument  is  the 
following : I am  directly  conscious  of  the  fact  of  obligation. 

1 Werke,  II.,  pp.  240,  245;  translation,  pp.  84s’7,  89s. 

2 Werke,  II.,  p.  25$*',  translation,  pp.  99-100. 


The  Philosophy  of  Fichte  3 1 5 

There  is,  indeed,  “but  one  point  on  which  I have  to  reflect 
incessantly  : what  I ought  to  do 1 “I  certainly  have  a duty 
to  perform  and  truly  have  these  definite  duties.”  2 But  in 
the  phenomenal  world,  it  has  been  shown,  there  is  no  obliga- 
tion, for  phenomena,  mere  successive  facts  which  are  links 
in  a chain  of  necessity,  can  be  bound  by  no  ought.  There- 
fore, this  immediate  certainty  of  experience,  the  fact  of  my 
consciousness  of  duty,  can  only  be  explained,  Fichte  teaches, 
— as  Kant  had  taught,  — by  admitting  that  the  world  of 
linked  phenomena  is  not  the  sole,  or  even  the  truest,  sphere  of 
reality.  Indeed,  the  immediate  certainty  of  the  consciousness 
of  obligation,  and  the  reality  implied  by  the  obligation, 
“absolutely  demand,” 3 Fichte  holds,  “the  existence  of 
another  world,  an  oversensuous 4 . . . eternal 5 world  . . . 
of  which”  (by  virtue  of  my  moral  consciousness),  “I  already 
am  citizen.  . . . This  which  men  call  heaven  does  not  he,” 
Fichte  declares,  “beyond  the  grave:  it  already  encompasses 
us  and  its  light  dawns  in  every  pure  heart.”  6 

Of  this  unsensuous  reality,  presupposed  by  the  fact  of 
obligation,  there  are  three  important  characteristics.  It  is, 
in  the  first  place,  a reality  kindred  to  my  own  nature.  It  is 
“no  strange  being  . . . into  which  I cannot  penetrate.  . . . 
It  is  framed  by  the  laws  of  my  own  thought  and  must  con- 
form to  them.  ...  It  expresses  throughout  nothing  save 
relations  of  myself  with  myself.”  7 This  follows  because 
obligation  to  duty  implies  the  possibility  of  its  attainment; 
and  only  in  a world  which  I can  enter  can  I fulfil  obligation. 

The  oversensuous  world  is,  in  the  second  place,  a world  of 
free  spirits  or  selves,  for  only  to  other  selves  do  I stand  in 
direct  relation  of  obligation.  “The  voice  of  my  conscience,” 

1 Werke,  II.,  p.  257s ; translation,  p.  1042. 

2 Werke,  II.,  p.  2613;  translation,  p.  1092. 

3 Werke,  II.,  p.  26s2;  translation,  p.  1132. 

4 Werke,  II.,  p.  2961  (cf.  2811,  uberirdisch ) ; translation,  p.  150. 

5 Werke,  II.,  p.  2822;  translation,  p.  1332. 

6 Werke,  II.,  p.  2832;  translation,  p.  1342. 

7 Werke,  II.,  p.  2s82  (cf.  p.  2512);  translation,  p.  1043. 


316  The  Advance  toward  Monistic  Spiritualism 

Fichte  declares,  “ cries  to  me,  ‘Treat  . . . these  beings  as 
free,  independent  creatures,  . . . existing  for  themselves. 

. . . Honor  their  freedom : embrace  their  aims  with  en- 
thusiasm as  if  they  were  your  own.’  . . . The  voice  of  con- 
science— the  command,  ‘here  limit  thy  freedom,  here 
assume  and  honor  purposes  foreign  to  thyself’  — this  it  is 
which  is  first  translated  into  the  thought : ‘here  is  surely  and 
certainly  a being  like  unto  me.’  ” 1 

The  eternal  reality,  finally,  is  an  absolute  spirit,  or  will. 
This  follows,  according  to  Fichte,  from  two  considerations. 
An  absolute  will  is  necessary  to  explain  the  unanimity  of 
human  experience.2  It  is  admitted  that  each  conscious  self 
constructs  its  own  world,  hence  separate  spirits  could  not 
be  aware  of  each  other  and  could  not  see  the  same  sense 
world,  were  not  all  human  selves  parts  and  manifestations 
of  the  absolute  self,  the  eternal  and  infinite  will.3  The 
existence  of  the  absolute  will  is  demanded  also  by  the 
more-than-individual  authority  of  the  moral  law.  Though 
each  individual  has  his  own  unique  ideal,  yet  the  moral 
law  has  an  authority  underivable  from  individual  purpose. 
“Neither  my  will  nor  that  of  any  other  finite  being,  nor  that 
of  all  finite  beings  taken  together,  gives  this  law,  but  rather 
my  will  and  the  will  of  all  other  finite  beings  are  subordi- 
nate to  it4.  . . . This  supreme  law  of  the  oversensuous 
world  is,  then,  a will.”  5 

With  this  discovery  of  the  absolute  will,  enfolding  me  and 
all  finite  spirits,  I “become  a new  creature.  . . . My  spirit 
is  forever  closed  to  perplexity  and  indecision,  to  uncertainty, 
doubt,  and  anxiety;  my  heart  is  closed  to  sorrow,  to  re- 
pentance, and  to  craving.”  6 Doubt  and  desire  have  become 
impossible  to  me  for  I realize  my  oneness  with  the  eternal 

1 Werke,  II.,  pp.  2594-26o1 ; translation,  pp.  io63-io71. 

2 Werke,  II.,  p.  2992;  translation,  p.  1532. 

3 Werke,  II.,  p.  3021;  translation,  pp.  155-156. 

4 Werke,  II.,  p.  295s;  translation,  p.  1492. 

6 Werke,  II.,  p.  297s;  translation,  p.  1512. 

0 Werke,  II.,  p.  311;  translation,  pp.  i672  >3  seq. 


The  Philosophy  of  Fichte  317 

will.  “Sublime,  living  will,”  I cry  out  to  him,  “whom  no 
name  names  and  no  thought  comprehends,  well  may  I lift 
my  heart  to  thee,  for  thou  and  I are  not  apart.  . . . Thou 
workest  in  me  the  knowledge  of  my  duty,  of  my  vocation  in 
the  series  of  reasonable  beings  — though  how  thou  workest  I 
do  not  know.  Thou  knowest  what  I think  and  will  — 
though  how  thou  canst  know  I do  not  understand.  . . . 
Thou  wiliest  . . . that  my  free  obedience  should  have  re- 
sults in  all  eternity ; the  act  of  thy  will  I do  not  understand 
and  know  only  that  it  is  not  like  my  will.”  1 

The  words  just  quoted  disclose  a feature  of  Fichte’s  doc- 
trine of  the  Absolute  which  can  hardly  fail  to  surprise  the 
reader  who  has  so  far  followed  his  argument.  In  spite  of 
the  teaching  that  this  Absolute  is  Will,  Fichte  conceives  it  as 
impersonal.  “In  the  concept  of  personality,”  he  says,  “is 
involved  that  of  limits.”  2 To  attribute  personality  to  the 
absolute  will  is,  then,  to  attribute  limitation.  An  impersonal, 
absolute  self  which  yet  works,  knows,  and  wills  is  — it  thus 
appears  — Fichte’s  conception  of  ultimate  reality.  But  such 
a view  seems,  on  the  face  of  it,  to  involve  a self-contradiction. 
It  conceives  of  the  Absolute  as  impersonal,  and  yet  claims 
for  it  all  the  characters  — knowing,  willing,  working  — of 
personality.  To  assure  ourselves  that  this  is  really  Fichte’s 
meaning  and  that  his  metaphysical  theory  has  not  uncon- 
sciously been  affected  by  the  demands  of  his  moral  teaching, 
it  is  useful  to  study  some  one  of  the  technical  expositions  of 
his  philosophy.  It  is  convenient  to  select  the  earliest  and 
most  widely  read  of  these:  “Grundlage  der  Wissenschafts- 
lehre,”  or  “Science  of  Knowledge.”  It  has  been  abundantly 
proved  that  the  essentials  of  Fichte’s  system  remained  un- 
altered, in  spite  of  his  diverse  formulations  of  it,  his  varying 
arguments  and  emphases,  and  his  changing  terminology.3 

1 Werke,  II.,  pp.  303-305;  translation,  pp.  158s,  1601. 

3 Werke,  II.,  p.  305;  translation,  p.  1592. 

* Cf.  A.  B.  Thompson,  “The  Unity  of  Fichte’s  Doctrine  of  Knowledge,” 
p.  3 et  al.  and  Appendix;  C.  C.  Everett,  “Fichte,”  pp.  13,  14. 


3 1 8 The  Advance  toward  Monistic  Spiritualism 

Hence  the  outline  of  the  “ Wissenschaftslehre”  may  rightly 
serve  as  summary  of  Fichte’s  constant  teaching. 

II.  Fichte’s  Technical  Philosophy 

a.  The  universe  consists  oj  mutually  related  self  and  not- 

self 

To  the  student  acquainted  only  with  Fichte’s  “ Vocation  of 
Man,”  or  even  with  his  “Way  to  a Blessed  Life”  the  “Science 
of  Knowledge”  seems,  at  first,  to  be  the  work  of  an  utterly 
different  writer.  It  consists  in  a technical,  severely  abstract, 
metaphysical  argument,  seldom  lighted  up  by  illustration,  or 
by  practical  application.  Its  chief  faults  of  style  are  repeti- 
tion and  overelaboration.  The  joy  of  discovering  signifi- 
cant truth  is  fairly  worn  away  by  the  carefulness  with  which 
such  a truth  is  turned  and  twisted,  viewed  in  this  fight  and 
in  that,  from  every  possible  standpoint,  important  and 
unimportant.1  The  book  has  three  divisions,  General, 
Theoretical,  and  Practical;  and  of  these  the  first  two  are 
more  closely  connected  than  the  second  with  the  third.  The 
book  starts  with  the  everyday  admission  that  reality  is  made 
up  of  self  and  not-self.  The  consciousness  of  the  I,  the  my- 
self, is  particularly  vivid,  it  is  pointed  out,  when  I judge  or 
identify,  that  is,  when  I say  “a  is  a.”  2 For  such  identification 
implies  the  existence  of  a relatively  permanent  self  which  is 
conscious  of  the  first  a,  of  the  second  a,  and  of  their  oneness. 
And  since  the  consciousness  of  identity  is  an  immediately 
certain  ‘fact  of  empirical  consciousness,’ 3 the  I on  which  its 
possibility  depends  must  exist. 

It  is,  however,  equally  certain  that  I — the  single,  finite 


1 This  sentence  is  quoted  from  a paper  by  the  writer,  in  the  Philosophical 
Review,  Vol.  III.,  p.  462. 

2 § I,  1),  Werke,  I.,  p.  92;  translation,  by  A.  E.  Kroeger,  p.  65  (all 
references  to  the  “Science  of  Knowledge,”  in  translation,  are  to  this  work). 

3 § I)  5)>  Werke,  I.,  p.  95 ; translation,  p.  681. 


The  Philosophy  of  Fichte 


3i9 


I — am  not  all  that  exists.  I perceive  objects  which  I do 
not  create;  my  desires  are  opposed  and  thwarted:  clearly 
there  exists  some  reality  beyond  myself  — in  other  words 
there  is  a not-I,  or  not-self.1 

The  self  and  the  not-self  may,  then,  be  looked  upon  as 
together  making  up  the  universe,  all  that  exists.  For  the 
term  ‘not-self’  is  wide  enough  to  include  everything  besides 
myself.  The  nature  of  the  relation  between  self  and  not-self 
has,  however,  to  be  taken  into  account ; and,  from  this  point 
to  the  end  of  Part  II.,  the  “Science  of  Knowledge”  consists 
chiefly  in  the  repeated  formulation  of  this  relation  between 
I and  not-I.  In  place  of  an  argument  directly  advancing 
from  beginning  to  close  of  the  book  one  finds,  thus,  an 
argument  which  returns  upon  itself,  going  over  and  over 
the  same  ground  with  unimportant  modifications.  This 
argument  is,  in  brief,  the  following : — 

As  together  constituting  the  all-of-reality,  I and  not-I  seem, 
in  the  first  place,  to  be  reciprocally  or  mutually  related  to 
each  other.2  For,  since  all  reality  is  made  up  of  self  and  not- 


1 § 2,  Werke,  I.,  p.  101;  translation,  p.  75.  In  this  section,  Fichte  at- 
tempts a deduction,  or  demonstration,  of  the  existence  of  the  not-self.  Really, 
however,  he  merely  asserts  its  existence,  as  a fact  of  experience.  That  this 
is  his  procedure,  Fichte  himself  elsewhere  virtually  admits  (Werke,  I.,  p.  252). 

2 This  conception  of  reciprocal  relation  is  discussed  in  the  following  por- 
tions of  the  “ Science  of  Knowledge  ” : — 

The  self  and  not-self  determine  each  other  (§  4,  B,  Werke,  I.,  p.  127; 
translation,  p.  108). 

In  reciprocal  relation  (regarded  as  causal)  matter  and  form  mutually 
determine  each  other  (Werke,  I.,  pp.  1714  seq. ; translation,  pp.  1474  seq.). 

In  reciprocal  relation  (regarded  as  that  of  substantiality)  matter  and  form 
mutually  determine  each  other  (Werke,  I.,  pp.  1904  seq. ; translation,  pp.  1604 
seq.). 

The  ‘ independent  activity  ’ and  the  ‘ form  ’ mutually  determine  each  other 
(Werke,  I.,  pp.  212  seq.;  translation,  pp.  1763  seq.). 

The  last  three  of  the  passages  of  which  the  headings  have  been  quoted 
occur  in  the  discussion  of  the  independent  activity. 

It  may  be  noted  that  Fichte  describes  the  three  sections,  just  summarized, 
of  the  “Science  of  Knowledge”  — the  successive  assertions  of  the  existence 
of  I,  of  not-I,  and  of  the  related  totality  which  includes  both  — as  thesis, 
antithesis,  and  synthesis,  and  that  he  dwells  upon  the  significance  of  this 


320  'The  Advance  toward  Monistic  Spiritualis7n 

self,  it  follows  that  the  self  is  limited  by  the  not-self ; and  that, 
conversely,  the  not-self  is  limited  by  the  self.  Were  there  noth- 
ing outside  me  to  thrust  itself  on  my  observation  or  to  obstruct 
my  purpose,  I should  constitute  all  reality.  And  were 
I not  here,  the  not-I  would  reign  undisputedly.  As  a matter 
of  fact,  we  are  both  here,  I and  not-I ; reality  is  divided  be- 
tween us;  we  mutually  determine  each  other. 

b.  The  relatedness  oj  self  and  not- self  implies  their  exist- 
ence as  parts  oj  an  independent,  or  absolute,  reality 

But  it  is  not  enough,  Fichte  continues,  to  say  simply : these 
opposed  realities,  self  and  not-self,  limit  each  other.  For 
relation,  as  Kant  has  already  argued,  implies  a reality 
deeper  than  that  of  the  terms  related.  The  existence  of 
related  terms  is,  in  fact,  only  possible  if  they  are  parts  of  an 
underlying,  ‘independent’  reality  which  expresses  itself  in 
them.  In  Fichte’s  words,  “To  make  the  reciprocal  relation 
possible,  the  activity  must  be  taken  as  absolute,”  1 as  all- 
enclosing.2 This  conception  of  the  ultimate  reality  as  One, 
rather  than  as  coordinated  manifold,  is  emphasized  in  all 
Fichte’s  works.  In  the  “Anweisung  zum  seligen  Leben,” 
or  “Way  towards  the  Blessed  Life,”  for  example,  he  defines 
the  ultimate  reality  as  ‘One,  not  manifold,’  as  ‘self-compre- 
hensive, self-sufficient,  absolute,  unchanging  unity,’  and, 
finally  — in  Spinoza’s  phrase  — as  ‘ by  itself,  for  itself,  through 
itself.’  But  though  he  constantly  asserts,  he  does  not  argue 
at  any  length  for  the  utter  completeness  or  for  the  singleness 
of  the  reality  fundamental  to  related  self  and  not-self.  The 
arguments  which  he  neglects  to  make  explicit  are  readily 
supplied,  (i)  The  fundamental  reality  must  be  complete 
because  it  consists  of  I and  not-I,  and  obviously  not-I  is  all 

sort  of  advance  in  thought.  The  procedure  recalls  Kant’s  arrangement  of 
the  categories  in  groups  of  three,  and  is  the  germ  of  that  dialectical  method 
which,  in  Hegel’s  hands,  became  so  important. 

1 Werke,  I.,  p.  i6o2;  translation,  p.  136. 

2 Werke,  I.,  p.  1922;  translation,  p.  161,  end. 


The  Philosophy  of  Fichte 


321 


which  I am  not,  since  together  they  must  round  out  reality. 
(2)  Complete  reality  is  a singular,  because  I and  not-I  are 
related,  limited,  the  one  by  the  other.  Now  related  terms 
must  constitute  either  a composite  made  up  of  parts  or  a 
singular  differentiating  itself  into  parts.  In  the  former  case 
the  relation  which  unites  the  terms  would  be  a third  reality 
in  addition  to  them,  that  is,  would  be  external  to  them.  But 
if  it  were  external  to  the  terms  it  could  not  unite  them,  bind 
them  together  — in  a word,  they  would  not  be  related.  Thus 
I and  not-I  can  be  related  only  as  they  are  manifestations 
of  a deeper  reality,  an  all-embracing  One  or  singular  — an 
'independent  activity,’ as  Fichte  calls  it  — which  manifests 
itself  in  them  and  is  their  relation.  In  Fichte’s  own  words, 
“The  relation  of  the  reciprocally  related  terms  as  such  pre- 
supposes an  absolute  activity.”  1 

c.  The  nature  0}  independent,  or  absolute,  reality 

1.  Ultimate  reality  is  absolute  I 

An  important  problem  remains:  the  nature  of  this  'inde- 
pendent,’ all-inclusive  One.  This,  also,  like  the  problem  of 
relation,  is  considered  by  Fichte,  not  once  for  all,  but  at 
many  points  of  the  “Science  of  Knowledge;  ” it  is  not  dis- 
cussed and  then  dismissed,  but  is  again  and  again  recurred  to. 
The  constantly  reemerging  argument  is  the  following : - — 

One  of  two  answers  must  be  given  to  the  question,  what  is 
the  nature  of  the  ultimate  One  — the  ‘independent  activity,’ 
to  use  Fichte’s  term.  Evidently,  it  must  be  either  of  the 
nature  of  the  self,  the  I,  or  of  the  nature  of  the  not-I,  since  the 
two  are  utterly  exclusive  and  exhaustive.  The  second  of  these 
possibilities  is  discussed  under  the  rather  misleading  head- 

1 Werke,  I.,  p.  208;  translation,  p.  1742.  The  passage  is  quoted  in  full, 
infra,  p.  323.  (Cf.  the  expression,  Werke,  I.,  p.  2053,  translation,  p.  1713, 
‘the  absolute  holding  together  of  the  opposites’.) 

It  should  be  noted  that  Fichte,  here  as  elsewhere,  assumes,  and  does 
not  argue,  that  the  all-including  One  is  activity. 


322  The  Advance  toward  Monistic  Spiritualism 

ing,  causality.1 * *  The  hypothesis  is  that  of  the  non-idealists: 
ultimate  reality  — independent  activity,  as  Fichte  in  this 
book  calls  it  — is  conceived  as  non-ideal,  that  is,  as  not-self. 
The  argument  for  the  hypothesis  is  the  common  one:  the 
existence  of  an  ‘external’  world,  known  to  us  through  per- 
ception. In  perception,  it  is  urged,  I am  conscious  of  reality 
independent  of  me,  external  to  me.  I cannot  choose  what 
I shall  see  or  hear ; on  the  contrary,  I passively  see  and  hear 
what  I must.  Evidently,  then,  if  this  reasoning  be  correct, 
the  independent  reality  is,  in  part  at  least,  of  the  nature  of 
a not-self.  But  it  has  been  proved  already  that  ultimate 
reality  is  numerically  a One  — and  this  requires  that  it  be  either 
self  or  not-self,  and  not  a composite  of  both  self  and  not-self. 
Now  the  argument  just  outlined,  from  the  passivity  of  percep- 
tion, results  in  the  conclusion  that  the  not-self  is  ultimately 
real.  It  follows  that  ultimate  reality  is  not-self,  unconscious 
reality ; and  that  the  supposed  I,  or  conscious  self,  is  a mere 
mode  of  the  not-self,  having,  as  self,  only  superficial  reality. 

Fichte  hardly  does  justice  to  this  conception,  so  clearly  does 
he  apprehend  the  argument  which  invalidates  it.  He  states 
the  argument  somewhat  as  follows : The  existence  of  a not- 
self  is  merely  an  inference  from  the  experience  of  perceiving, 
involving  as  that  does  a certain  passivity  suggesting  the 
existence  of  reality  independent  of  it ; but  perceiving,  how- 
ever passive,  is  a form  of  consciousness  whose  existence  is 
immediately  known ; and  to  infer  from  consciousness,  and  as 
explanation  of  consciousness,  a reality  which  denies  the 
fundamental  reality  of  it  is  logically  impossible.  “There  is 
no  reality  in  the  not-I,”  Fichte  says,  “except  so  far  as  the  I 
is  passively  conscious.  No  passivity  in  the  I,  no  activity 
[reality]  in  the  not-I.”  In  other  words,  one  really  knows 
nothing  of  a not-self : one  knows  merely  that  one  is  passively 

1 This  conception  is  discussed  in  the  following  portions  of  the  “ Science  of 

Knowledge”:  (i)  Werke,  I.,  pp.  131  seq.  /translation,  pp.  108 4 seq. ; (2)  Werke, 

I.,  pp.  153  seq. ; translation,  pp.  129  seq. ; (3)  Werke,  I.,  pp.  162  seq. ; transla- 

tion, pp.  138  seq.;  (4)  Werke,  I.,  pp.  171  seq. ; translation,  pp.  147  seq. 


The  Philosophy  of  Fichte  323 

as  well  as  actively  conscious.  Thus  one  knows  oneself  as 
limited,  but  has  as  yet  no  conclusive  reason  to  suppose  one- 
self to  be  limited  by  a not-self. 

Fichte  turns,  therefore,  to  the  alternative  hypothesis:  the 
conception  of  independent  activity  (by  which,  as  always,  he 
means  ultimate  reality)  as  I,  or  self.  As  has  been  shown,1 
the  independent  activity  is  absolute ; hence,  on  this  theory, 
ultimate  reality  is  an  absolute  I.  The  problem  which 
presses  for  solution  is,  accordingly : can  the  existence  of  an 
absolute  self  be  reconciled  with  one’s  awareness  of  a limited 
self,  an  I which  finds  itself  thwarted  and  opposed?  Fichte 
answers  that  the  absolute  self  is  not  only  possible  in  a uni- 
verse of  finite  selves,  but  that  it  is  required  for  their  existence. 
The  relation  between  absolute  and  finite  selves  he  defines  as 
that  of  substantiality.2  It  is  the  relation  of  the  greater  to  the 
less,  of  the  manifesting  to  the  manifested,  of  the  whole  to  the 
parts.3  Thus  the  alleged  opposition  of  I to  not-I  turns  out  to 
be  the  opposition,  within  the  absolute  self,  of  some  finite  self 
to  the  rest  of  reality.  In  other  words,  not-self  means  simply 
not-this-self ; and  every  finite  self  is  not-self  to  every  other. 
Only  in  this  restricted  sense  is  there  any  not-I,  for  since  the 
ultimate  reality,  or  independent  activity,  turns  out  to  be 
that  of  absolute  self,  there  can  be  no  reality  outside  it.  But 
external  to  finite  self,  are  other  finite  manifestations  of  the 
absolute  self ; and  this  explains  the  fact  that  the  finite  I feels 
itself  passive,  opposed  and  thwarted,  even  in  a world  whose 
ultimate  reality  is  self.4  The  very  existence  of  the  opposition 
implies,  however,  the  reality  of  the  absolute  I : “ The  coming 

1 Cf.  supra,  pp.  320  seq. 

2 This  conception  is  discussed  in  the  following  portions  of  the  “ Science 
of  Knowledge”:  (i)  Werke,  I.,  pp.  1364  seq.,  esp.  139;  translation,  p.  1133; 
(2)  Werke,  I.,  p.  157;  translation,  p.  134;  (3)  Werke,  I.,  p.  163;  translation, 
p.  140;  (4)  Werke,  I.,  p.  190 4 ; translation,  p.  160. 

3 Werke,  I.,  pp.  1651  and  1922;  translation,  pp.  i4i1and  161.  Cf.  Fichte’s 
words  in  the  “Thatsachen  des  Bewusstseins ” (1810-11),  Werke,  II.,  p.  640: 
“The  self-contraction  of  the  One  is  the  original  actus  individuationis.” 

4Cf.  Werke,  I.,  p.  287;  translation,  p.  292. 


324  The  Advance  toward  Monistic  Spiritualism 

together  of  the  reciprocally  related  members  ( Wechselglieder ) 
as  such  is  subject  to  ( steht  unter)  the  condition  of  an  absolute 
activity  of  the  Self,  through  which  the  latter  opposes  subjec- 
tive self  to  objective  not-self,  and  unites  both.  Only  in  the 
Self,  and  by  means  of  this  absolute  activity  of  the  Self,  are 
self  and  not-self  related  terms:  in  the  self  and  through  its 
activity  they  are  related.”  1 

This  distinction  between  the  absolute  and  the  finite  I’s,  sug- 
gested by  Kant,  it  is  true,  but  first  carried  out  by  Fichte  in 
the  “Science  of  Knowledge,”  is,  far  and  away,  the  greatest 
achievement  of  the  book  — and,  indeed,  of  Fichte’s  entire 
philosophy.  It  carries  with  it  a complete  disproof  of  the 
existence  of  any  thing-in-itself.  For  if  there  is  no  absolute 
not-I,  if  — on  the  contrary  — the  not-self  is  opposed  simply 
to  a finite  self,  never  to  the  absolute  self,  then  there  is  evi- 
dently no  reality  utterly  independent  of  consciousness  — in 
other  words,  there  is  no  thing-in-itself.  Fichte’s  denial  of  the 
possibility  of  a thing-in-itself  is  very  energetic ; and,  after  his 
usual  fashion,  he  recurs  to  it  again  and  again.  The  main 
argument,  he  says,  for  the  existence  of  a thing-in-itself  may 
be  stated  thus:  Granted  that  there  is  an  absolute  self, 
manifesting  itself  in  finite  selves,  what  is  the  reason  for  this 
self-differentiation  ? Why  should  an  absolute  I break  itself  up 
into  lesser  I’s  ? 2 Must  not  this  ground  of  the  absolute  Self’s 
opposition  of  a finite  self  to  its  not-self  — this  check  ( Anstoss ), 
as  it  may  be  called,  to  the  perfectly  undetermined  activity  of 
the  absolute  I — lie  outside  of  the  activity  of  the  Absolute  ? 
And  in  this  case,  is  there  not  a reality-independent-of-con- 
sciousness  which,  if  not  a thing-in-itself,  is  at  least  a ground- 
in-itself  ? 3 Fichte’s  negative  answer  to  this  question  is  given 

1 Werke,  I.,  p.  2082;  translation,  p.  1742.  For  justification  of  the  use, 
impossible  in  German,  of  capitals  to  distinguish  reference  to  the  absolute 
Self  from  reference  to  the  finite  selves,  cf.  Philosophical  Review , 1894, 
Vol.  III.,  p.  459,  where  a more  elaborate  symbolism  is  proposed. 

2 Werke,  I.,  p.  210;  translation,  p.  1754. 

8 Cf.  Berkeley’s  discussion  of  this  same  hypothesis,  supra,  pp.  128  seq. 


The  Philosophy  of  Fichte 


325 


over  and  over  again  in  Part  III.,  called  the  Practical  Part,  of 
the  “Science  of  Knowledge.”  He  insists  on  the  impossibility 
of  reality-independent-of-consciousness,  even  in  the  attenuated 
form  of  check  to  the  absolute  self’s  activity.  The  activity  of 
the  finite  self  must  indeed  be  checked  by  the  reality  outside 
it,  but  “this  not-self  must  be  a product  of  the  absolute  I, 
and  the  absolute  I would  thus  be  affected  by  itself  alone.”  1 

2.  The  independent  reality  is  impersonal  I:  a system  oj 

finite  selves 

But  though  the  ultimate  reality,  or  independent  activity, 
is  a “self  which  determines  itself  absolutely,”  this  absolute  I 
is,  none  the  less,  it  appears,  impersonal.  For  since  it  is 
independent  of  all  other  realities,  — since  it  is  ultimate  or 
realest  reality, — it  is  evidently,  Fichte  says,  unlimited.  But 
every  personal  self  is  conscious  of  itself,  that  is  to  say,  it  has  an 
object  of  its  own  consciousness,  and  is  thus  limited  by  its 
object.  Evidently,  therefore  (so  Fichte  teaches,  here,  as  in 
the  “Vocation  of  Man,”  and,  indeed,  in  all  his  works),  the 
absolute  self,  or  I-in-itself,  is  impersonal,  “never  comes  to 
consciousness,”  2 “is  conscious  of  itself  only  in  individual 
form.”  3 Any  apparent  assertions  by  Fichte  of  the  personal 
nature  of  the  absolute  reality  are  mere  metaphor;  the  ‘love 
of  God,’  for  example,  so  often  referred  to  in  the  “Way 
towards  the  Blessed  Life,”  is  defined  as  the  “act  of  Being  in 
maintaining  itself  in  existence.”  4 

The  further  study  of  the  independent  reality  becomes  thus 
a study  of  those  finite  selves  in  which  it  comes  to  conscious- 

1 Werke,  I.,  p.  2512. 

2 Werke,  I.,  p.  26g3;  translation,  p.  27s2. 

s“Thatsachen  des  Bewusstseyns-,  ” Werke,  II.,  p.  647.  Cf.  “Anweisung 
zum  seligen  Leben  ” (“  Way  towards  the  Blessed  Life  ”),  Werke,  V.,  p.  455 ; 
translation,  II.,  p.  3532 : “ God  throws  out  from  himself  . . . such  part  of  his 
existence  as  becomes  self-consciousness.” 

* Werke,  V.,  p.  541;  translation,  II.,  p.  473.  (References  to  translations 
of  the  “Way  towards  the  Blessed  Life”  and  “Characteristics  of  the  Present 
Age”  are  to  William  Smith’s  translations  in  “ Fichte’s  Popular  Works,”  1848.) 


326  The  Advance  toward  Monistic  Spiritualism 

ness.  The  last  part  of  the  “ Science  of  Knowledge  ” contains 
this  detailed  discussion  of  the  nature  of  the  personal  and 
finite  selves.  Each  finite  I has  two  significant  phases, 
appears,  in  other  words,  both  as  practical  and  as  theoretical. 
The  practical  self  is  the  finite  self  reflecting  on  the  absolute 
self  and  on  its  own  oneness  with  the  absolute.  The  theo- 
retical self,  on  the  other  hand,  is  the  finite  self  reflecting  on  its 
finiteness,  realizing  itself  as  limited.  The  two,  theoretical 
and  practical  I,  are  not  separable  individuals,  but  merely  dis- 
tinguishable phases  of  each  finite  self.  They  are  not  separate, 
because  each  implies  the  other.  I,  the  finite  self,  could  never 
be  reflectively  conscious  of  my  finitude,  were  I not  always 
conscious,  however  inattentively,  of  my  essential  infinity; 
for  a limit,  as  Fichte  says,  is  not  known  as  a limit  until,  in 
consciousness,  one  has  gone  beyond  it.1  On  the  other  hand,  I, 
the  finite  self,  could  not  be  conscious  of  myself  as  infinite 
without  realizing  that  it  is  precisely  this  finite  self  which 
manifests  and  forms  a constituent  part  of  the  infinite  self. 
This  realization  of  infinity  in  the  form  of  finitude  is  empirically, 
Fichte  teaches,  a striving  ( Streben ) after  the  ideal.  No  finite 
end  ever  satisfies  this  ideal  striving;  one  purpose  after 
another  is  set  up,  attained,  and  left  behind.  For  the  very 
nature  of  the  finite  self’s  consciousness  of  itself  as  part  of  the 
Infinite  implies  a striving  after  that  which  cannot,  in  the 
sphere  of  finite  being,  ever  be  apprehended.  The  following 
passage  condenses  this  teaching  into  a statement  which  the 
bracketed  clauses  seek  to  make  clearer.  “The  I,”  Fichte 
says  (here  meaning  the  practical,  finite  self),  “demands  that 
it  comprehend  all  reality  within  itself  and  that  it  fulfil  in- 
finity. The  necessary  presupposition  of  this  demand  is  the 
idea  of  the  absolutely  posited,  infinite  I;  and  this  is  the 
Absolute  I.  (This  I is  unattainable  by  our  consciousness 
[.  . . that  is,  by  our  immediate  consciousness].)  The  I must 
— by  the  very  conception  of  it  — reflect  on  itself,  consider 

1 Cf.  passage  quoted  below. 


The  Philosophy  of  Fichte 


327 


whether  it  really  include  all  reality  within  itself.  ...  In  so 
far,  it  is  practical ; neither  ‘absolute,’  because  by  the  tendency 
to  reflection  it  goes  out  beyond  itself  [i.e.  realizes  itself  as 
limited  by  something  outside  itself];  nor  yet  ‘theoretical,’  be- 
cause its  reflection  has  for  its  ground  only  the  idea  proceeding 
from  the  I itself  and  abstracted  from  the  possible  check  [or 
thing-in-itself].  If,  however,  the  finite  self  reflect  upon  the 
‘ check,  ’ that  is,  if  it  regard  its  activity  as  limited  ...  it  is 
in  so  far  ‘theoretical’  self,  or  intelligence.  If  there  be  no 
practical  phase  in  the  self,  no  theoretical  consciousness  is 
possible : for  if  the  activity  of  the  self  reaches  only  so  far  as 
the  check,  and  not  beyond  it,  then,  for  the  I,1  there  exists  no 
check.  On  the  other  hand,  if  the  self  be  not  intelligent,  then 
no  consciousness  of  its  practical  phase  — and,  indeed,  no 
self-consciousness  of  any  sort — is  possible,”2  for  only  through 
the  opposition  of  finite  and  infinite  is  the  consciousness  of 
either  possible. 

Thus,  the  outcome  of  the  “Science  of  Knowledge”  is  that 
of  the  “Vocation  of  Man.”  In  varying  terms,  but  with 
virtually  the  same  meaning,  Fichte’s  other  books  outline  the 
same  conception  of  reality : an  absolute  self  called  Will,  and 
Life,  and  Being,  and  God,  and  by  other  names  as  well,3  which 
is  spiritual,  yet  impersonal,  and  which  includes  within  itself 
finite  realities.  These  realities  are  single  selves,  but  their 
common  experience  constitutes  the  so-called  physical  world : 
in  Fichte’s  words : “ the  world  of  purely  material  objects  . . . 
is  the  expression  of  life  in  its  unity.  Not  the  individual  as 
such,  but  the  one  life,  the  totality  of  individuals,  perceives 
these  objects.” 4 Each  of  these  single  selves,  in  the  sec- 
ond place,  is  but  “a  single  division  ( Spaltung ) of  the 
one  . . . I,”  yet  “each  individual  has  in  his  own  free 

1 Italics  mine.  2 Werke,  I.,  pp.  277-278. 

3 Cf.  A.  B.  Thompson,  op.  cit.,  Appendix,  Nomenclature,  p.  199. 

4 “ Thatsachen  des  Bewusstseyns,”  Werke,  II.,  pp.  614  seq.,  621  seq.  Cf. 
also  “Grundziige  des  gegenwartigen  Zeitalters  (Characteristics  of  the 
Present  Age),”  IX.,  Werke,  VII.,  p.  130;  translation,  p.  133;  “A  world  has 
no  existence  except  in  knowledge,  and  knowledge  is  the  world.” 


328  The  Advance  toward  Monistic  Spiritualism 

choice  . . . the  possibility  of  enjoying  from  any  of  these 
. . . standpoints,  that  peculiar  portion  of  the  absolute  being 
which  belongs  to  him.”  1 In  its  essence  this  consciousness  of 
union  with  the  infinite  constitutes  the  moral  consciousness  of 
each  one  of  us;  and  all  our  consciousness  is  indeed  inherently 
moral.  Thus,  the  physical  world  is  from  this  truest  point  of 
view  ‘the  object  and  sphere  of  my  duties’;  and  my  fellow 
human  being  is  known  to  me  in  the  acknowledged  obligation 
to  respect  his  freedom.2  Even  more  obviously,  the  conscious- 
ness of  obligation  is  acknowledgment  of  the  claim  of  the 
infinite  self ; the  growth  of  the  moral  ideal  is  the  progressive 
striving  after  attainment  to  unity  with  the  Infinite. 

III.  Criticism  of  Fichte’s  Conclusion 

The  inevitable  criticism  upon  this  theory  may  be  simply 
stated.  Fichte’s  impersonal  Absolute  is  not  in  any  sense  a 
self,  or  I ; it  is  rather  — though  this  contradicts  Fichte’s 
express  statement  about  it  — a not-self.  For  my  knowledge 
of  the  self  is  surely  rooted  in  my  immediate  knowledge  of 
myself;  and  this  myself,  whom  each  of  us  immediately 
knows,  is  a personal  self.  There  is  no  such  thing  as  imper- 
sonal consciousness;  there  never  exists  feeling,  thought,  or 
will  which  some  person  does  not  feel,  think,  or  will.  If, 
then,  Fichte  is  right  both  in  the  doctrine  that  ultimate  reality 
is  an  absolute  and  singular,  not  a composite,  reality  (an  inde- 
pendent activity,  and  not  a set  of  reciprocally  related  terms),3 
and  if  he  is  also  justified  in  arguing  that  this  absolute  reality 
is  self,  then  this  absolute  I must  be  personal.  Fichte’s  teach- 
ing that  reality  is  ultimately  an  absolute  and  singular  I,  which 
is  yet  impersonal,  is,  in  truth,  a contradiction  in  terms.  For 
ultimate  reality  could  be  both  spiritual  and  impersonal  only 

1 “ Way  towards  the  Blessed  Life,”  translation,  II.,  p.  459 ; Werke,  V., 
P-  53°- 

2 Cf.  supra,  pp.  316  seq. ; and  “Thatsachen  des  Bewusstseyns,”  Werke,  II., 
P-  635.’ 

3 Cf.  supra,  pp.  320  seq. 


The  Philosophy  of  Fichte  3 29 

if  it  were  a composite,  a community,  of  finite  selves  bound 
together  by  their  common  perceiving  experience  and  by  their 
mutual  moral  ideals.  This  is,  in  fact,  the  teaching  of  Fichte’s 
practical  philosophy,  but  by  resolving  ultimate  reality  into  a 
lot  of  related  individuals,  he  virtually  yields  the  conception  of 
reality  as  absolute  and  singular.1 

It  must  be  added  that  Fichte  often  tacitly  implies  the  per- 
sonality of  the  Absolute  whose  impersonal  character  he  con- 
stantly asserts.  He  admits  it  when,  in  the  “Vocation  of  Man,” 
he  names  the  ultimate  reality  Will ; or  when,  as  in  the  “ Way 
towards  the  Blessed  Life,”  he  calls  it  God.  For  to  attribute 
to  the  deepest  reality  knowledge,  will,  and  love  is,  to  all  in- 
tents and  purposes,  to  treat  it  as  personal.  That  the  absolute 
will  is  “not  like  my  will,”  may  be  admitted,  for  the  Infinite 
must  differ  from  the  finite  at  least  as  the  whole  from  the  part ; 
but,  as  will,  it  must  be  personal ; and,  for  all  his  doctrine  to 
the  contrary,  Fichte  seems  sometimes  to  have  thought  of  it 
thus.  In  the  same  way,  he  virtually  acknowledges  the  per- 
sonality of  the  Absolute  in  his  accounts  of  the  religious  con- 
sciousness,2 which  gain  their  force  only  because  they  assume 
a relation  of  the  finite  self  to  a divine  person,  and  which  would 
lose  all  their  meaning  if  they  were  interpreted  as  descriptions 
of  the  attitude  of  the  finite  self  to  the  community  of  its  fellow- 
beings.  Thus,  when  Fichte  exclaims,  “the  blessed  Life  is 
the  apprehension  of  the  One  and  Eternal  with  inward  love 
and  interest,”  3 he  gains  assent  because  the  ‘ One  and  Eter- 
nal’ is  instinctively  taken  to  mean  a divine  personality.  If, 
however,  one  remember  that  to  Fichte  the  1 One  and  Eternal  ’ 
means  either  a hidden  impersonal  reality  or  — as  is  likely  — 
a community  of  human  beings,  then  either  it  becomes  impos- 
sible to  love  this  hidden  being,  or  else  the  love  is  no  longer 
love  of  the  One  but  of  the  many. 

1 For  fuller  discussion,  cf.  Chapter  io,  pp.  378  seq. ; Chapter  1 r,  pp.  418  seq. 

2 Cf.  “Way  towards  the  Blessed  Life,”  translation,  pp.  306,  345,  440,  444, 
450  (Werke,  pp.  418,  448-449.  S^SW.  SW^zo,  523). 

3 “Way  towards  the  Blessed  Life,”  p.  447;  translation,  II.,  p.  343. 


330  The  Advance  toward  Monistic  Spiritualism 

It  remains  to  consider  briefly  Fichte’s  reason  for  holding 
to  this  doctrine  of  an  impersonal,  absolute  self.  The  concep- 
tion, there  is  reason  to  believe,  is  inherently  contradictory,  and 
Fichte  does  not  himself  consistently  hold  to  it.  Why,  then, 
it  may  well  be  asked,  does  he  so  persistently  assert  it  ? Evi- 
dently, for  the  reason  that  personality  involves  limitations 
and  that  he  cannot  conceive  of  the  ultimate  reality  as  limited.1 
This  is,  indeed,  the  only  obstacle  to  the  doctrine  of  an  abso- 
lute, an  all-including  person.  If  it  can  be  overcome,  there  is 
no  barrier  to  the  logical  conclusion  of  Fichte’s  reasonings : 
the  doctrine  that  there  is  an  absolute  reality,  and  that  this 
Absolute  is  a personal  self.  Now  Fichte,  though  he  never 
realized  it,  had  himself  surmounted  this  difficulty  by  the 
teaching  that  the  absolute  I determines  itself.  Over  and 
over  again,  he  calls  it  self-determining,  insisting  that  it 
‘determines’ 2 or  ‘contracts’ 3 itself ; and  he  asserts  that  this 
determination  or  contraction  of  itself  into  the  totality  of 
finite  selves  is  through  its  own  activity,  not  through  any 
external  impetus.  By  this  distinction,  Fichte  formulates  the 
true  conception  of  the  Absolute,  not  as  unlimited,  but  as 
‘ self-limited  ’ — that  is,  as  limited  by  nothing  external  to 
itself.  With  this  admission,  the  impossibility  of  a personal 
Absolute  vanishes.  Personality,  it  may  be  acknowledged,  is 
limitation;  finite  personality  involves  a limitation  of  myself 
by  the  not-myself ; but  infinite  personality  is  self-limitation, 
determination  of  oneself  through  the  laws  of  one’s  nature  — 
a necessity  which  is  freedom. 

B.  The  Philosophy  of  Schelling 

The  systems  of  Fichte  and  of  Schelling  are  rightly  studied 
in  close  connection,  both  because  they  are  so  nearly  con- 
temporaneous, and  because  they  so  strongly  resemble  each 

1 Cf.  p.  325. 

2 “Science  of  Knowledge,”  Werke,  I.,  pp.  299,  307,  310;  translation, 
pp.  313  el  al. 

8 “Thatsachen  des  Bewusstseyns,”  Werke,  II.,  p.  640. 


The  Philosophy  of  Sc  helling  331 

other  in  their  critical  reaction  on  the  doctrine  of  Kant,  and 
in  their  less  direct  yet  significant  relation  to  Spinoza’s  teach- 
ing. Schelling,  like  Fichte,  demonstrates  the  impossibility 
of  Kant’s  thing-in-itself,  and  interprets  Kant’s  transcenden- 
tal self,  as  well  as  Spinoza’s  substance,  as  absolute  self.  But, 
in  spite  of  these  fundamental  likenesses,  Schelling’s  doctrine 
stands  in  sharp  contrast  to  that  of  Fichte;  somewhat  as 
Schelling  himself,  with  his  prosperous  youth,  his  early  aca- 
demic success,  his  romantic  friendships,  — in  a word,  with  his 
fife  of  inward  caprice  and  of  outward  change,  — stands  op- 
posed to  the  serious  Fichte,  with  his  life  of  poverty,  struggle, 
misunderstanding,  and  hard-won  success. 

I.  Schelling ’s  Early  Doctrine  : the  Universe  as  con- 
stituted by  an  Unconditioned  but  Impersonal  I 

The  important  periods  of  Friedrich  Wilhelm  Joseph 
Schelling’s  philosophic  activity  are  compressed  within  the 
short  period  of  fifteen  years  — roughly  speaking,  from 
1795  to  1810.1  Like  Fichte,  he  entered  on  philosophy  as 
expositor  and  critic  of  Kant.  But,  like  every  independent 
thinker,  he  developed  a doctrine  of  his  own  in  the  very  effort 
to  understand,  to  expound,  and  to  correct  another  system. 
His  first  work,  “Vom  Ich  (Concerning  the  I)”  was  pub- 
lished in  1795,  when  its  brilliant  young  author  was  only  twenty 
years  old.  Its  success  led  to  Schelling’s  appointment  to  the 
chair  of  philosophy  in  Jena,  which  Fichte  had  left ; and  Schel- 
ling’s distinctly  technical  works  were  written,  all  of  them,  from 
this  academic  background.  The  “Vom  Ich”  is  a clear  and 

1 The  beginner  in  philosophy  may  well  postpone  the  reading  of  Schelling, 
for  his  most  significant  doctrines  are  found  in  the  more  accessible  works  of 
other  writers.  Schelling  is  not  translated,  and  the  student  who  does  not  know 
German  must  be  referred  to  Watson’s  excellent  condensation  of  the  “Tran- 
scendental Idealism”  (containing  briefer  summaries  of  other  works).  The 
German  reading  student  should  study  the  “Vom  Ich,”  selections  from  the 
nature  philosophy,  the  “ Darstellung  ” (1801),  parts  at  least  of  the 
“System  des  Transcendentalen  Idealismus,”  and  one  of  the  later  works, 
e.g.  the  “Philosophic  und  Religion.”  " 


332  The  Advance  toward  Monistic  Spiritualism 

eloquent  exposition  of  the  doctrine,  common  to  Schelling  and 
to  Fichte,  that  ultimate  reality  is  an  absolute,  but  impersonal 
self.  Schelling  argues  thus : We  are  immediately  conscious 
of  limited,  that  is,  conditioned,  realities.  Each  of  these  con- 
ditioned facts,  or  things,  seems  to  depend  on  some  other ; but 
every  limited  cause  in  turn  demands  a cause,  and  thus  the 
attempted  explanation  of  one  thing  by  another  falls  to  the 
ground.1  But  we  are  not  forced  to  the  conclusion  that  there 
is  no  accounting  for  the  universe;  on  the  other  hand,  the 
very  existence  of  related  things  presupposes  the  existence  of 
unconditioned  reality.2 

Schelling  proceeds  to  consider  the  nature  of  this  uncondi- 
tioned reality.  The  Unconditioned  evidently  is  no  object,  for 
every  object,  or  thing,  is  object  of  some  consciousness,  in  other 
words,  is  the  construction  of  a conscious  subject.  “What- 
ever is  a thing  is  . . . object  of  knowledge,  is  therefore  a 
link  in  the  chain  of  our  knowledge,  falls  within  the  sphere  of 
the  knowable,  and  therefore  cannot  be  the  real  ground  of  all 
knowing.”  3 Even  the  thing-in-itself,  the  supposed  reality 
beyond  consciousness,  is  object  of  our  conception  and  fails, 
therefore,  of  being  unconditioned.4  But  though  uncon- 
ditioned reality  is  not  an  object,  it  is  not,  on  the  other  hand, 
a subject.  For  just  as  an  object  presupposes,  and  is  therefore 
conditioned  by,  a subject,  so  a subject  presupposes  and  is, 
then,  conditioned  by  its  object.  “ Precisely  because  the  sub- 
ject is  thinkable  only  in  relation  to  an  object,  and  the  object 
only  in  relation  to  a subject,  neither  one  of  the  two  can  con- 
tain the  unconditioned.”  5 Now,  primarily  at  least,  as  the 
context  seems  to  indicate,  Schelling  means,  by  subject,  finite 
self.  This  second  step  in  the  deduction  of  the  nature  of 

1 Cf.  “ Vom  Ich,”  §§  21  and  37,  Werke,  I.,  i,  pp.  1641  and  170*. 

s Ibid.,  §§  1-3,  especially  3,  Werke,  I.,  1,  pp.  166-170.  These  passages 
contain  no  demonstration  of  the  existence  of  unconditioned  reality.  Cf. 
injra,  p.  419,  for  proof  of  Schelling’s  assertion. 

3 Ibid.,  § 26,  Werke,  I.,  1,  p.  1646.  4 Ibid.,  p.  239s. 

6 Ibid.,  § 28,  Werke,  I.,  1,  p.  1653.  Cf.  “System  des  Transcendentalen 
Idealismus”  (1800),  Werke,  III.,  1,  §§  1,  3,  pp.  339  seq.,  346  seq. 


The  Philosophy  of  Schelling 


333 


the  ultimate  reality  simply  means,  therefore,  that  every  finite 
self  is,  by  virtue  of  its  finiteness,  conditioned,  not  uncon- 
ditioned, reality. 

There  remains  but  the  one  possibility.  Unconditioned 
reality  is  neither  external  thing  nor  finite  self : it  must,  then, 
be  the  absolute  I,  the  self  which  is  conditioned,  or  determined, 
by  nothing  outside  itself,  the  self  which  is  realized  through 
itself,  the  unconditioned  “ I am  because  I am.”  1 The  essence 
of  this  I is  “freedom,  that  is  to  say,  it  is  unthinkable,  except 
as  it  posits  itself  — through  simple  power  ( Selbstmacht ) in 
itself  — not  as  anything  whatever  but  as  mere  I.”  2 

The  greater  part  of  the  “Vom  Ich”  consists  in  a detailed 
and  reiterated  consideration  of  the  characters,  or  aspects,  of 
the  unconditioned  I,  from  the  standpoint  of  Kant’s  four 
groups  of  categories.  The  main  results  of  this  discussion 
may,  however,  be  summarized  in  a few  paragraphs.  Quan- 
titatively considered,  Schelling  teaches,3  the  absolute  I “is 
. . . unity.”  It  is  unity,  not  plurality,  for  a true  plu- 
rality would  contain  members  endowed  with  an  independent 
reality,  and  this  has  been  shown  to  be  impossible.4  In  con- 
trast with  the  empirical  I,  this  absolute  I is,  thus,  all-inclusive : 
“ it  fills  all . . .infinity.”  The  ‘ quality,  ’ in  the  second  place,  of 
the  unconditioned  I,  is  its  reality.  “The  I,”  Schelling  says,5 
“includes  all  . . . reality,”  else  it  would  be  no  longer  un- 
conditioned. The  only  not-self,  therefore,  is  such  as  derives 
its  reality  from  the  absolute  self.  In  Schelling’s  words, 
“ The  not-self  has  ...  no  reality,  so  long  as  it  is  opposed  to 
the  self,  so  long,  that  is,  as  it  is  pure,  absolute,  not-self.” 
This  means  that,  though  realities  exist  doubtless  outside  any 
finite  self,  which  are  not-selves  to  this  limited  I,  even  these 
are  included  within  the  unconditioned  I.  Going  on  to  the 

1 “Vom  Ich,”  § 3,  Werke,  I.,  i,  p.  167.  Cf.  p.  221. 

s I bid.,  § 8,  Werke,  I.,  1,  p.  179.  Cf.  pp.  205,  235,  239,  end. 

s Ibid.,  § 9,  Werke,  I.,  1,  p.  182  seq.  Cf.  supra,  Chapter  7. 

* Cf.  supra,  p.  332.  Cf.,  also,  pp.  349  seq. 

6 Ibid.,  § iol,  Werke,  I.,  1,  p.  1863. 


334  The  Advance  toward  Monistic  Spiritualism 

relation  categories,  Schelling  points  out  that  by  ‘substance’ 
is  meant  ‘unconditioned  reality.’  Hence,  he  says,  “the  I is 
the  only  substance.  . . . All  that  exists  is  in  the  I.  . . . 
All  that  exists  is  mere  accident  of  the  I.”  1 And  because  the 
unconditioned  I is  absolute  power,  it  is  also  causality;  in 
other  words,  it  is  the  presupposition  and  the  explanation  of 
itself  and  of  all  subordinate  realities.  “Its  essence  is  itself 
power.”  2 There  remain  only  the  categories  of  modality,  and 
of  these  Schelling  recognizes  only  one : the  absoluteness  of 
the  unconditioned  I.  In  truth,  the  predicate  ‘absoluteness’ 
merely  includes,  or  reaffirms,  the  characters  already  attrib- 
uted to  the  unconditioned  I,  namely,  all-including  unity, 
ultimate  reality,  substance,  and  power.  And,  herewith,  as 
Schelling  points  out,  all  the  categories  have  been  conceived 
as  aspects  of  the  absolute  I,  instead  of  being  externally  de- 
rived, after  Kant’s  fashion,  from  distinctions  of  formal  logic.3 

Certain  comments  at  once  suggest  themselves  on  this 
category  doctrine.  It  has  the  merit,  which  Schelling  claims 
for  it,  of  avoiding  the  artificiality  and  the  consequent  incom- 
pleteness of  Kant’s  derivation  of  the  categories.  But  Schel- 
ling fails  to  notice  that  his  own  point  of  view  is  avowedly 
different  from  that  of  Kant,  to  whom  the  categories  are  the 
relations  of  known  objects  or  predications  about  them. 
And,  in  the  second  place,  considered  in  and  for  them- 
selves, Schelling’s  categories  — characters  of  the  uncon- 
ditioned I — demand  the  following  criticism  : every  one  of 
them  turns  out  to  be  a corollary,  or  else  a restatement,  of  its 
unconditionedness.  But  besides  these,  the  unconditioned  I 
has  certainly  the  qualitative  character  of  selfhood,  in  its 
various  expressions:  it  is  not  merely  unconditioned,  but  /. 
Schelling  should  surely  have  found  a place,  among  the  cate- 
gories of  the  I,  for  the  characters  which  belong  to  it  regarded 
as  self. 

The  neglect  to  discuss  the  qualitative  characters  of  the 

1 “ Vom  Ich,”  § 12,  Werke,  I.,  x,  pp.  i922-i931. 

* Ibid.,  § 14,  Werke,  I.,  i,  p.  196.  3 Ibid.,  Werke,  I.,  1,  p.  154. 


The  Philosophy  of  Sc  helling 


335 


unconditioned  I is  due  doubtless  to  Schelling’s  denial  of  its 
personality.  This  is  based  on  the  theory  that  the  self-con- 
scious personality  of  the  I would  demand  that  it  be  object 
to  itself,  thus  turning  the  unconditioned  into  the  conditioned 
self.  “Reflect,”  Schelling  says,  “that  the  I,  in  so  far  as  it 
occurs  in  consciousness,  is  no  more  pure,  absolute,  I ; reflect 
that  there  can  be  for  the  absolute  I no  object,  and  that  it  can 
far  less  become  object  for  itself.”  1 This  is  the  old  argument 
of  Fichte  and  of  Kant : the  self  of  which  one  is  conscious  is 
ipso  facto  a limited  self.  The  refutation  of  this  argument  has 
been  over  and  over  again  formulated  : 2 self-consciousness  is 
self-limitation,  and  self-limitation  does  not  derogate  from 
absoluteness.  It  is  interesting  to  notice  that  in  this  early 
stage  of  his  thinking,  even  Schelling  seems  to  be  only  half- 
hearted in  his  denial  of  the  absolute  I’s  personality.  “The 
absolute  I,  ” he  says,  “ exists  (ist)  without  all  reference  to  objects. 
That  is  to  say,  it  exists  not  in  so  far  as  it  thinks  in  general,  but 
in  so  far  as  it  thinks  itself  only.”  3 Of  God,  he  says,  a little 
later,  that  he  “ perceives  . . . no  thing,  but  merely  himself.”  4 
Still  more  significant  is  Schelling’s  appeal  to  self-conscious- 
ness in  the  midst  of  the  demonstration,  already  outlined,  of 
an  unconditioned  I — an  I which  exists  through  itself.  “I 
am  because  I am,”5  Schelling  exclaims,  “this  thought  seizes 
suddenly  upon  every  man.”  In  these  words,  Schelling  really 
acknowledges  a truth  which  has  no  place  in  his  formal  system, 
the  truth  that  consciousness  essentially  is  personality,  and 
that  an  unconditioned  I is,  of  necessity,  a personal,  though  a 
self-limiting,  self. 


1 “ Vom  Ich,”  § 84,  Werke,  I.,  i,  p.  1801.  Cf.  “System  des  Transcen- 
dentalen  Idealismus,”  2ter  Hauptabschnitt  Vorerinnerung  3,  f,  A,  Werke, 
III.,  r,  p.  3834,  “Das  Ich  indem  es  sich  anschaut  wird  endlich.” 

2 Cf.  supra,  pp.  246  seq. ; 330  seq. 

3 “Vom  Ich,”  § 15,  Anmerkung  2,  Werke,  I.,  1,  p.  204,  footnote.  (Italics 
mine.) 

4 Ibid.,  Anmerkung  3,  p.  2102. 

6 Ibid.,  § 3,  Werke,  I.,  r,  p.  168.  The  entire  passage  should  be  read  .to 
gain  the  full  force  of  the  statement. 


336  The  Advance  toward  Monistic  Spiritualism 


Up  to  this  point,  no  important  difference  has  declared  itself 
between  Schelling’s  doctrine  and  that  of  Fichte.  Yet  even 
in  this  early  work,  so  closely  following  the  line  of  Kant’s 
teaching,  a contrast  appears  between  Schelling  and  Fichte 
in  their  theories  of  the  moral  consciousness.  Both  teach  that 
the  ultimate  reality  is  an  absolute  I,  manifested  in  finite  con- 
sciousnesses; but  Fichte  lays  more  stress  than  Schelling  does  on 
the  individuality  implied  by  the  moral  consciousness,  and  on 
the  essentially  moral  nature  of  all  self-consciousness.  Thus, 
Fichte,  starting  from  the  facts  of  the  moral  consciousness, 
teaches  that  a man  to  find  out  what  he  is  must  reflect  on  what 
he  ought  — must,  in  other  words,  study  his  consciousness  of 
obligation  and  its  presuppositions.  Schelling,  on  the  other 
hand,  leads  up  to  the  consciousness  of  obligation  instead  of 
beginning  with  it,  teaching  that  a man  derives  his  sense  of 
obligation  from  his  consciousness  of  unity  with  the  absolute 
self.  What  to  a finite  self  is  the  deepest  formulation  of  the 
moral  law  is  accordingly  embodied  by  Schelling  in  the  words, 
“Be  absolute,  be  identical  with  thyself.”  1 Thus,  for  Schel- 
ling, ethics  is  a deduction  from  metaphysics,  whereas  to 
Fichte,  ethics  is  a prerequisite  to  all  philosophy.  “ Give  to 
a man,”  Schelling  says,  “the  knowledge  of  what  he  is;  he 
will  soon  learn  what  he  ought  to  be.”  2 Fichte  would  have 
stated  the  relation  between  doctrine  and  conduct  in  a differ- 
ent way.  “Let  a man  but  act  as  he  ought,”  Fichte  might 
have  said,  “ and  he  will  soon  learn  what  he  is.” 

II.  Schelling’s  Doctrine  or  the  Absolute  as 
Nature 

Schelling’s  idealism,  like  Fichte’s,  consists  in  the  doctrine 
of  an  unconditioned  but  impersonal  I differentiating  itself 
into  limited  selves  and  not-selves,  particular  I’s  and  their 

1 “ Vom  Ich,”  § 13,  p.  1991. 

2 Ibid.,  Preface  to  the  first  edition,  VVerke,  I.,  1,  p.  T57. 


The  Philosophy  of  Schelling  337 

objects.  But  Schelling,  as  has  just  been  indicated,  was,  from 
the  first,  far  less  interested  than  Fichte,  in  the  experiences  of 
the  individual  selves.  It  is  not,  then,  unnatural  that  his 
early  years  at  Jena  should  have  been  largely  occupied  with 
the  formulation  of  a philosophy  of  external  nature.  There 
is  no  need  of  a special  explanation  of  this  tendency,  for  the 
later  eighteenth  century  was  alive  with  a fresh  interest  in 
nature.  The  prevalent  Spinozism  of  the  poets  took  the  form 
of  a pantheistic  attitude  toward  nature;  and  the  scientists 
were  making  constant  discoveries  and  elaborating  new  and 
fascinating  theories.  In  1777,  Lavoisier  isolated  the  element 
oxygen;  in  1790,  Galvani  discovered  animal  electricity;  Eras- 
mus Darwin,  in  his  “Zoonomia,”  published  in  1794,  antici- 
pated the  evolution  theory  of  Lamarck.  Even  the  critics, 
the  philosophers,  and  the  poets  had  their  share  in  scien- 
tific theorizing  and  in  discovery.  Winckelmann  and  Herder 
and  Lessing  applied  the  development  theory  in  the  domains 
of  art,  of  history,  and  of  literature  ; Kant  anticipated 
Laplace’s  formulation  of  the  nebular  hypothesis ; and 
Goethe,  the  universal  genius,  proposed  his  theory  that 
the  parts  of  the  flower  are  metamorphosed  leaves.  Schel- 
ling’s  special  interest,  evidenced  by  every  one  of  his  writings 
upon  nature-philosophy,  in  the  phenomena  of  magnetism  and 
of  electricity  and  in  the  principle  of  development,  has  thus 
its  root  in  the  scientific  interests  and  achievements  of  his 
age. 

Every  nature  phenomenon,  Schelling  teaches,  is  a com- 
bination — in  other  words,  a reconciliation  — of  opposing 
tendencies.  These  he  names  variously : sometimes  he  calls 
them  the  ‘unifying’  and  the  ‘individualizing’  tendencies; 
again,  he  names  them  the  ‘ first,’  or  ‘ positive,’  and  the  ‘ second,’ 
or  ‘negative,’  tendencies.1  The  positive,  or  unifying,  ten- 
dency is,  he  says,  concretely  illustrated  by  gravitation,  the 
force  which  attracts  bodies  towards  each  other ; 2 it  is 

1 “ Weltseele,”  Werke,  II.,  i,  pp.  381  seq.  2 Ibid.,  pp.  364  and  366s. 


338  The  Advance  toward  Monistic  Spiritualism 

abstractly  exemplified  by  time,  for  the  character  of  succeeding 
moments,  as  of  events,  is  to  determine  each  other  — they  are 
necessarily  connected.1  In  a similar  way,  space  is  a mani- 
festation of  the  individualizing  tendency,2  since  spaces 
separate  things  and  each  object  occupies  its  own  space.3 
The  complete  union  of  the  two  tendencies  is  exemplified  by 
the  organism,  the  spatial  body  which  is  yet  temporally  con- 
nected with  preceding  organisms.4 

It  would  be  unwise  to  follow,  in  detail,  Schelling’s  countless 
variations  on  this  theme.  He  traces  the  oppositions  and  the 
reconciliations  of  unifying  and  individualizing  tendencies 
within  the  group  of  organic,5  as  well  as  within  that  of  inorganic, 
phenomena.6  In  the  group  of  the  organic,  sensibility  to  exter- 
nal influence  is  the  unifying  tendency,  irritability  is  individual- 
izing, and  the  reproductive  impulse  binds  both  tendencies 
together.  But  this  and  much  more  like  it  is,  after  all, 
analogy  and  symbolism,  not  reasoning.  And  one  will  vainly 
search  the  pages  of  “Weltseele,”  of  “Ideen  zur  Philosophic 
der  Natur,”  or  of  “ Erster  Entwurf,”  for  any  cogent  argu- 
ment. The  upshot  of  Schelling’s  play  upon  scientific  analo- 
gies seems  to  be  this : every  nature  phenomenon  is  a one-of- 
many,  a union  of  opposites.  Back  of  the  multiplicity  of 
phenomena,  therefore,  there  doubtless  is  one  power,  itself 
a one-of-many,  which  manifests  itself  in  these  diverse  phe- 
nomena. “Since  it  is  unquestionable,”  Schelling  writes, 
“that  in  the  living  being  there  is  a series  ( Stujenjolge ) of 
functions,  since  nature  opposed  to  the  animal  process  irri- 
tability, to  irritability  sensibility,  and  so  brought  about  an 


1 “Weltseele,”  Werke,  II.,  1,  p.  3681.  2 Ibid.,  p.  364s. 

3 Schelling  suggests  light  as  concrete  manifestation  of  the  individualiz- 

ing tendency  {Ibid.,  p.  368*  seq.).  He  evidently  uses  the  term,  not  in  a 
literal,  but  in  a vague,  symbolic  sense.  As  thus  used,  it  is  no  real  correlate  to 
gravitation,  the  concrete  manifestation  of  the  unifying  tendency. 

* Ibid.,  p.  3713.  “ Der  Lebensquell  der  allgemeinen  . . . Natur  ist  daher 

die  Copula  zwischen  der  Schwere  und  dem  Lichtwesen  . . . Wo  auch  diese 
hohere  Copula  sich  selbst  bejaht  im  Einzelnen,  da  ist  . . . Organismus.” 

6 Ibid.,  pp.  493  seq.  8 Ibid.,  pp.  397  seq. 


The  Philosophy  of  Schelling 


339 


antagonism  of  forces  which  mutually  balance  each  other  in 
such  wise  that  when  one  rises  the  other  falls  and  vice  versa . 
therefore  one  is  led  to  the  thought  that  all  these  functions  are 
merely  branches  of  one  and  the  same  power,  and  that  the  one 
nature  principle,  which  we  must  assume  as  cause  of  life 
comes  forward  [in  these  lower  forms]  as  its  single  appear- 
ances.” 1 This  ultimate  One,  in  his  books  on  nature  philos- 
ophy, Schelling  vaguely  names  ‘Nature.’  “Nature,”  he 
declares,  is  “.  . . not  mere  appearance  or  revelation  of 
the  Eternal:  rather  [it  is]  itself  the  Eternal.”2 


III.  Schelling’s  Doctrine  of  the  Absolute  as  Identity 

The  outcome  of  the  phase  of  Schelling’s  teaching  known  as 
the  nature  philosophy  is,  as  has  just  appeared,  the  doctrine 
that  nature  is  the  absolute  reality.  But  Schelling  never 
conceives  of  nature,  after  the  manner  of  Descartes  or  of 
Hobbes,  as  ultimately  ‘material.’  Rather,  he  regards 
nature  as  the  progressively  developing  expression  of  the 
Absolute  ; and  in  this  third  period  of  his  thinking,  he  argues 
deductively  from  the  Absolute  — now  called  Identity  — to 
the  nature-force  or  phenomenon,  instead  of  reasoning  induc- 
tively to  the  existence  and  character  of  the  Absolute  from 
the  existence  and  character  of  natural  phenomena.  There 
are  two  accounts  of  Schelling’s  identity-philosophy. 
He  is  sometimes  supposed  to  coordinate  physical  reality 
and  consciousness  as  manifestations  of  a deeper  reality, 
which  is  thus  the  ‘identity’  or  ‘indifference’  of  nature  and 
self.  Undoubtedly  many  passages,  especially  in  the  writ- 
ings of  1795-1800,  indicate  that  Schelling  conceives  of  an 
“absolute  identity  in  which  there  is  no  duplicity  and  which 

1 “ Weltseele,”  “Ueber  den  Ursprung  des  allgemeinen  Organismus,”  IV., 
6,  Werke,  II.,  1,  p.  564. 

2 “Verhaltniss  des  Realen  und  Idealen  in  der  Natur,”  Werke,  II.,  1, 
P-  255- 


340  The  Advance  toward  Monistic  Spiritualism 

. . . can  never  come  to  consciousness,”  1 and  of  physical 
phenomena  as  parallel  with  consciousness.  But  it  is  prob- 
ably truer  to  the  final  form  of  Schelling’s  thought  to  empha- 
size his  idealistic  conception  of  the  Absolute  and  his  subordi- 
nation of  the  physical  to  the  conscious,  of  the  object  to  the 
subject.  “Absolute  Identity,”  he  says,  “exists  only  under 
the  form  of  knowing  its  identity  with  itself,”2  and  every 
part  or  expression  of  this  Absolute  Identity  must  partake 
of  its  nature.3  Now  self-knowing  is  subject-objectivity. 
Accordingly,  each  of  the  stages  — dynamic,  organic,  and 
vital  — of  the  developing  Absolute  is  a ‘relative  totality’ 
within  which  less  developed  stages  are  distinguished  as 
subjective  and  objective  aspects. 

The  essentially  idealistic  character  of  this  teaching,  which 
differentiates  it  from  Schelling’s  earlier  nature  philosophy, 
is  accentuated  by  the  main  doctrine  of  his  “System  des 
transcendentalen  Idealismus.”  The  problem  of  this  book 
is  the  explanation  of  the  correspondence  between  knowledge 
and  object.  Knowledge,  it  is  admitted,  seems  to  imply  the 
existence  of  reality  external  to  mind : sensation  is  the  con- 
sciousness of  my  limitation,  and  perception  is  the  conscious- 
ness of  nature-objects ; reflection  reveals  me  as  causally 
affected  by  objects.  Even  in  my  willing,  I am  incited  by 
somewhat  more-than-myself,  else  my  will  is  mere  capricious- 
ness (‘ Willkiihr ).4  There  is,  Schelling  teaches,  but  one  solu- 
tion to  this  problem  of  the  relation  of  intelligence  to  objects. 
The  object  must  be  the  product  of  a blind,  unconscious 
activity,  and  yet  this 1 blind  force  ’ must  be  identical  in  nature 
with  the  intelligence  which  perceives  objects  and  is  seem- 

1 “System  des  transcendentalen  Idealismus”  (1800),  IV.,  Werke,  III., 
1.,  p.  6oo. 

2 “Darstellung  meines  Systems  der  Philosophic  (1801),”  § 19,  Werke,  VI. 
Schelling  characterizes  this  work  as  the  first  statement  of  his  system  as  a 
whole.  Cf.  Kuno  Fischer,  op.  cit.,  VI.,  p.  770  £f. 

* Ibid.,  §§  39,  40. 

‘“System  des  transcendentalen  Idealismus,”  III.,  Hauptabschnitt 
Epoche  I.-III.,  and  Hauptabschnitt  IV. 


The  Philosophy  of  Schelling 


341 


ingly  limited  by  them.  “How  the  objective  world  accom- 
modates itself  to  ideas  in  us,  and  ideas  in  us  to  the  objec- 
tive world,  is  incomprehensible  unless  . . . the  activity  by 
which  the  objective  world  is  created  is  originally  iden- 
tical with  that  which  is  manifested  in  willing ; and  vice 
versa.”  1 

The  criticisms  upon  this  identity-doctrine,  the  most 
characteristic  contribution  of  Schelling  to  philosophy,  must 
be  summarized  very  briefly.  In  the  first  place,  Schelling 
does  not  really  prove,  but  rather  asserts,  the  existence  of  an 
Absolute.  Second,  he  seldom  offers  a philosophical  demon- 
stration of  development  within  (or  of)  the  Absolute,  usually 
accepting  the  ultimate  reality  of  evolution  on  the  basis  of 
empirical  observation  and  of  merely  scientific  inference. 
Furthermore,  his  argument  for  development,  when  he  frames 
it,  is  based  upon  his  conception  of  the  Absolute  as  self- 
knowing, or  subject-objectivity,  coupled  with  his  (unar- 
gued) conviction  that  each  part  or  stage  of  reality  must  be 
like  the  whole.  But  this  assumption  of  the  self-knowing, 
or  self-conscious,  nature  of  the  Absolute  is  in  flat  opposition 
to  Schelling’s  constant  teaching  that  the  Absolute  is  origi- 
nally impersonal  and  comes  only  gradually  to  consciousness. 
For  such  a conception  of  the  Absolute  as  impersonal  re- 
duces either  to  that  of  an  unconscious  Absolute  — a hy- 
pothesis forbidden,  as  has  appeared,  by  Schelling’s  argument 
for  development  — or  to  the  no  longer  absolutist  conception 
of  a mere  sum  of  finite  consciousnesses.2  The  fundamental 
criticism  of  Schelling’s  system  is,  thus,  that  his  conception 
of  the  Absolute  as  originally  impersonal  really  invalidates 
his  own  argument,  besides  bringing  back  what  Schelling 
as  well  as  Fichte  thought  he  had  forever  banished  from 
philosophy,  a thing-in-itself. 

1 “System  des  transcendentalen  Idealismus,”  Einleitung,  § 3,  C.  Werke, 

m. 

2 For  criticism  of  this  view  (which,  however,  Schelling  did  not  hold),  cf. 
comment  on  Fichte,  p.  3291,  supra. 


342  The  Advance  toward  Monistic  Spiritualism 

With  the  first  decade  of  the  nineteenth  century  the  most 
important  periods  of  Schelling’s  philosophy  end.  From 
this  time  onward,  his  writings  are  so  desultory,  often  so 
eclectic  in  their  teaching,  and  in  the  end  so  mystical,  that 
they  have  been  reckoned  among  the  works  of  German  litera- 
ture rather  than  as  products  of  strictly  metaphysical  thought. 
German  philosophy  and  German  literature  have  indeed  al- 
ways stood  to  each  other  in  a peculiarly  direct  and  vital  rela- 
tion : many  of  the  German  poets,  notably  Lessing  and  Schil- 
ler, have  been,  in  a way,  philosophers  also ; and  Schelling, 
in  his  later  life,  is  most  often  looked  upon  as  a philosopher 
turned  poet — a representative  rather  of  romanticism  in  lit- 
erature than  of  idealism  in  philosophy.  The  writer  of  this 
book  more  and  more  inclines  to  the  view  that  this  charge 
is  unjust.  Certainly  Schelling  himself  protested  vehemently 
when  he  was  accused  by  Hegel  of  Schwarmerei,  and  he 
stoutly  defended  against  Jacobi  the  advantages  of  reasoned 
thought.  To  be  sure,  the  reader  of  the  “Denkmal  gegen 
Jacobi”  feels  that  Schelling  is  more  concerned  to  defend 
reasoning  in  general  than  to  offer  any  rigorously  reasoned 
argument  for  his  own  conclusions.  But  these  conclusions, 
different  as  they  seem  at  first  reading  from  the  outcome  of 
the  identity  philosophy,  are  at  bottom  grounded  in  the  same 
principle.  Schelling’s  later  teaching  is  in  brief  the  following : 
he  conceives  what  he  names  the  Absolute  as  personal  God ; 
but  he  teaches  that  God  has  developed,  in  time,  from  the  pre- 
personal to  the  higher,  personal  phase.  In  such  a doctrine, 
it  is  evident,  personality  is  still  a subordinate  category ; the 
Absolute,  even  if  it  be  called  God,  or  Reason,  so  long  as  it 
has  not  come  to  self-consciousness  is  an  unknown  reality 
manifested  in  the  personal,  but  not  itself  essentially  and 
completely  personal.1 

1 On  the  interpretation  of  Schelling,  cf.  throughout  Volume  VI.,  Kuno 
Fischer’s  “ Geschichte  der  neueren  Philosophic.” 


The  Philosophy  of  Schopenhauer 


343 


C.  The  Philosophy  of  Schopenhauer 

Schopenhauer’s  philosophy,  like  Fichte’s  and  Schelling’s, 
is  closely  related  to  the  teachings  of  Spinoza  and  of  Kant, 
though  it  must  be  added  that  Schopenhauer  does  not  himself 
recognize  the  affiliation  to  Spinoza.  Like  Hegel,  he  con- 
ceives the  ultimate  reality  as  an  absolute  self  — though  he 
never  uses,  and  even  repudiates,  this  term.1  His  great  ad- 
vance  upon  Fichte  and  Schelling  consists  in  his  implicit 
reco  n of  the  peisonality^-trf  lhu™ab solute  "self. — ftut 


beca  e"  inadequately  'conceives  this  personality,  tending 
constantly,  indeed,  to  identify  it  with  impersonal  force,  and 
because  he  fails  to  demonstrate  its  absoluteness,  he  falls 
short  of  an  idealistic  monism ; the  conception  of  an  absolute 
and  personal  self,  whose  conscious  activity  is  self-limitation. 
Because  Schopenhauer  does  not  fully  grasp  this  conception, 
his  philosophy  is  properly  studied  before  that  of  Hegel, 
though  Schopenhauer,  bom  in  1788,  is  eighteen  years  Hegel’s 
junior,  and  though  he  died  in  i860,  nearly  thirty  years  after 
Hegel’s  death.  Yet  this  order  of  study  does  little  violence  to 
chronology,  for  Schopenhauer’s  philosophic  genius,  like 
Schelling’s,  blossomed  early,  whereas  Hegel’s  books  were 
published  relatively  late  in  his  life.  Schopenhauer’s  first 
work,  his  doctor  thesis,  the  brilliant  “Fourfold  Root  of  the 
Principle  of  Sufficient  Reason,”  was  published  in  1813,  only 
a year  after  the  first  volume  of  Hegel’s  “Logic” ; yet  it  con- 
tains all  the  essential  features  of  Schopenhauer’s  system.  The 
complete  exposition  of  the  system,  the  first  volume  of  “The 
World  as  Will  and  Idea,”  followed  in  1818,  only  a year  later 
than  the  first  edition  of  Hegel’s  “Encyclopedia,”  and  two 
years  after  the  second  volume  of  Hegel’s  “Logic.” 

The  pitiful  story  of  Arthur  Schopenhauer’s  life  — of  the 

1 “Uber  die  vierfache  Wurzel  des  Satzes  vom  zureichenden  Grunde  ” — 
(“On  the  Fourfold  Root  of  the  Principle  of  Sufficient  Reason,”  cited  as 
“ Fourfold  Root  ”),  § 20. 


344  The  Advance  toward  Monistic  Spiritualism 

boyhood  of  travel,  the  brief  period  of  mercantile  pursuits, 
the  petty  squabbles  with  his  mother,  the  envious  scorn  of 
academic  philosophy,  the  vain  struggle  for  professional  rec- 
ognition, the  long,  lonely  middle  age  filled  with  trivial 
interests  and  deep-dyed  with  lonely  cynicism  — all  this 
belongs,  in  its  details,  to  literary  biography  rather  than  to 
metaphysical  discussion.  Yet  the  combined  influences  of  dis- 
position and  environment  are  evident  in  the  pessimism  of  his 
system ; and  his  cosmopolitan  training  — in  particular, 
his  study  of  English  — - had  a marked  effect  on  the  form  of 
his  metaphysical  works.  The  lucidity  and  brilliancy  of  Scho- 
penhauer’s style  make  it  utterly  unlike  that  of  any  other  Ger- 
man philosopher  of  the  period.  The  reader  is,  indeed,  almost 
inclined  to  sympathize  with  Schopenhauer’s  fretful  remark 
that  he  failed  of  an  academic  hearing  because  the  German 
public  did  not  believe  that  sound  metaphysics  could  be  ex- 
pressed in  unambiguous  terms.  Oliver  Herford’s  famous 
rhyme  is,  therefore,  singularly  unjust  to  Schopenhauer.  It 
applies  fairly  well  to  other  German  philosophers,  but  the 
metaphysically  minded  goose-girl  could  hardly  have  failed 
to  comprehend  “What  Schopenhauer’s  driving  at.”  The 
succeeding  summary  of  Schopenhauer’s  teaching  mainly 
follows  the  order  of  “The  World  as  Will  and  Idea,”  but 
takes  into  account  also  the  doctrine  of  the  “Fourfold  Root.” 

I.  The  Teaching  of  Schopenhauer 

a.  The  world  0}  phenomena : lthe  world  as  idea ’ 

“The  world,”  so  Schopenhauer  begins,  “is  my  idea.”1 
In  other  words,  like  Kant,  Fichte,  and  Schelling,  Schopen- 
hauer fully  accepts  the  results  of  Berkeley’s  idealism,  though, 

1 “Die  Welt  ist  meine  Vorstellung.”  — “Die  Welt  als  Wille  und  Vorstel- 
lung,”  § 1.  (Cited,  after  this,  by  the  title  of  the  English  translation,  “The 
World  as  Will  and  Idea.”)  Cf.  “Fourfold  Root,”  § 21.  References  in  both 
cases  are  ordinarily  to  sections  and  their  paragraphs.  The  student  may  well 


The  Philosophy  of  Schopenhauer  345 

unlike  them,  he  explicitly  credits  Berkeley  with  the  doctrine. 
“ One  knows  no  sun,”  Schopenhauer  continues,  in  the  passage 
just  cited,  “and  no  earth,  but  always  only  an  eye  which  sees  a 
sun,  a hand  which  feels  the  earth.”  In  other  words,  “every 
object  is  object  only  in  relation  to  the  subject”:1  so-called 
external  things  are,  after  all,  facts  of  consciousness.  With 
great  skill,  Schopenhauer  next  proceeds  to  analyze  these 
objects  of  knowledge.  Such  an  object  consists,  he  points  out, 
of  sensations,  ordered  by  underived  and  a priori  forms  of 
thought.  This,  of  course,  is  Kant’s  doctrine.  But  Schopen- 
hauer maintains  that  these  forms  are  not  — as  Kant  had 
taught  — of  four  distinct  sorts.2  Rather,  there  is  but  one 
form,  or  principle  of  unity.  This  is  the  “principle  of 
sufficient  reason”;  it  consists  in  the  necessary  relation  of 
every  imaginable  object  or  event  to  every  other:  every 
object  or  event,  in  other  words,  determines  and  is  also  de- 
termined by  every  other.3  “By  virtue  of  this  relation,” 
Schopenhauer  says,  4 “nothing  can  become  object  for  us 
which  exists  for  itself  and  is  independent,  nothing  which  is 
single  and  detached.” 

The  relatedness  of  phenomena  is  thus,  Schopenhauer 
rightly  teaches,  the  fundamental  category.  There  are,  how- 
ever, several  sorts  of  relatedness : time  and  space,  causality, 
and  two  other  categories,  which  — as  will  immediately  appear 
— Schopenhauer  incorrectly  includes  with  these.  His  dis- 
cussion of  these  forms  of  unity  is  brilliant  and  suggestive, 
especially  in  its  criticism  of  Kant,  yet  it  is  both  inadequate 
and  positively  defective.  It  makes  only  incidental  reference 
to  the  relations  of  comparison  — identity,  difference,  and 

read  both  works  entire.  He  should  not  fail  to  read  Bk.  I.,  §§  1-4;  Bk.  II., 
§§  17-23,  27,  29;  Bk.  IV.,  §§  53-54,  56-58,  61,  66-68,  71,  of  “The  World  as 
Will  and  Idea.” 

1 “Fourfold  Root,”  § 4t. 

2 Cf.  Appendix,  pp.  527,  554. 

3 “The  World  as  Will  and  Idea,”  § 23. 

‘“Fourfold  Root,”  § 161. 


346  The  Advance  toward  Monistic  Spiritualism 

the  like;  it  denies  the  close  likeness  of  time  and  causality; 
it  counts  motivation  as  a distinct  category,  instead  of  describ- 
ing it  as  causal  connection  of  psychic  facts  ; it  denies  recipro- 
cal relation,  though  definitely  recognizing  one  form  of  it, 
the  spatial ; finally,  it  includes  among  these  categories  the 
causa  cognoscendi,  or  ground  of  knowledge,  a manifest  confu- 
sion of  epistemology  with  metaphysics.1 

But  the  object,  constituted  as  it  is  by  our  sensations  and 
by  our  forms  of  thought,  has  empirical,  but  not  ultimate, 
reality.  Rather,  as  Kant  had  taught,  it  is  mere  appearance, 
and  absolute  reality  must  be  elsewhere  sought.  In  the  words 
of  Schopenhauer:  “The  whole  objective  world  is  and 

remains  idea  ...  in  fact,  a series  of  ideas  whose  common 
bond  is  the  law  of  sufficient  reason.”2  And  since  ultimate 
reality  is  not  to  be  found  in  objects,  clearly  it  must  be  sought 
in  the  subject,  or  self.  It  is  evident,  as  Kant  had  argued, 
that  the  forms  of  knowing,  ways  of  unifying,  presuppose  and 
require  the  existence  of  a knowing  subject,  a permanent 
reality  underlying  the  succession  of  phenomena.  Herein, 
then,  we  are  likely  to  find  ultimate  reality.  But  a difficulty 
at  once  presents  itself.  This  subject,  as  knower,  is  not  — 
so,  in  common  with  Kant,  Fichte,  and  Schelling,  Schopenhauer 
teaches  — itself  known.  He  defines  it  as  “that  which  knows 
all  and  is  known  of  none,”  and  says  distinctly,  “We  never 
know  it,  but  it  is  precisely  that  which  knows.”  3 This  inability 
to  know  the  subject  follows  from  the  alleged  impossibility  that 
the  one  knower  should  be  both  subject  and  object.  “ There  is 
no  such  thing,”  he  says,  “ as  a knowing  of  knowing ; for  to  that 
end,  it  would  be  necessary  that  the  subject  should  separate 
itself  from  knowing,  and  yet  at  the  same  time  should  know 
the  knowing  — which  is  impossible.”  4 

1 On  all  these  points,  cf.  Chapter  7,  pp.  204  seq.;  Chapter  10,  pp.  369 
seq.;  and  Appendix,  p.  554. 

2 “The  World  as  Will  and  Idea,”  § 51;  Translation,  I.,  p.  18  (Werke, 

II.,  p-  17). 

3 Ibid.,  § 21. 


*“  Fourfold  Root,”  Chapter  7,  § 413. 


The  Philosophy  of  Schopenhauer  347 

It  would  seem  as  if  Schopenhauer  were  irrevocably  com- 
mitted by  these  words  to  the  doctrine  that  self-consciousness 
is  impossible  and  that  ultimate  reality  is,  therefore,  unap- 
proachable. But  Schopenhauer  was  a discriminating  ob- 
server of  his  own  experience,  and  he  entertained  — along 
with  the  reasoned  conviction  that  the  knower  cannot,  in 
strict  logic,  be  known  — the  immediate  certainty  that  every 
self  knows  itself.  “We  have,”  he  says,  “an  inner  knowledge 
of  self.  But  every  case  of  knowledge,  by  its  very  nature, 
presupposes  a known  and  a knower.  Hence  that  which  is 
known  in  us  is,  as  such,  not  the  knowing  but  the  willing  self.”  1 
In  truth,  Schopenhauer  urges,  this  willing  self  always  is  the 
object  of  our  introspection.  “The  concept,  will,”  he  says, 
“comes  from  the  innermost  part,  from  the  most  immediate 
consciousness  of  every  man.  Herein  a man  knows  and  at 
the  same  time  is  himself,  his  own  individuality  . . . im- 
mediately, without  any  form  even  that  of  subject,  for  here  the 
knower  and  the  known  merge  into  each  other.”2  In  this 
known  self,  as  will,  it  is  at  last,  then,  possible  that  we  may 
find  ultimate  reality. 

b.  The  will  as  ultimate  reality:  ‘ the  world  as  will' 3 

Schopenhauer  has  up  to  this  point  argued  that  there  exist 
(1)  external  objects  which  are  phenomena,  that  is,  objects  of 
consciousness,  and  (2)  an  individual  self  which  knows  these 
objects,  and  which  also  knows  itself  — but  knows  itself  as  will, 
not  as  knower.  He  now  advances  to  the  Spinozistic  position, 
that  the  individual  is  but  the  manifestation,  the  partial  expres- 
sion, of  an  underlying  One ; 4 and  he  interprets  this  one  reality 

1 “ Fourfold  Root,”  § 42.  This  summary  of  Schopenhauer’s  system  here 
follows  the  order,  not  of  “The  World  as  Will  and  Idea,”  but  of  the  “Four- 
fold Root.” 

2 “The  World  as  Will  and  Idea,”  Translation,  I.,  p.  145,  § 22  (Werke, 

II.,  133).  3 Ibid.,  Bk.  II.,  § 17  seq. 

4 Unlike  Fichte  and  Schelling,  Schopenhauer  is  not  well  acquainted  with 
Spinoza’s  doctrine;  and  is  out  of  sympathy  with  it,  as  he  understands  it. 


348  The  Advance  toward  Monistic  Spiritualism 

as  will.  “The  thing-in-itself,”  he  exclaims,  “is  the  will.”1 
And  the  will,  he  teaches,  is  without  ground  and  is  “free  from 
plurality,  though  its  manifestations  in  space  and  time  are 
innumerable.”  2 “ As  a magic  lantern  shows  many  and  mani- 
fold pictures,”  Schopenhauer  continues,  “but  there  is  only  one 
and  the  same  flame  which  makes  them  all  visible ; so,  in  all 
the  manifold  phenomena  which,  side  by  side,  fill  the  world, 
or,  one  after  another,  as  events,  crowd  each  other  off  the 
stage,  the  one  will  is  that  which  manifests  itself.  Phenomena 
and  events  are  the  visibleness  and  objectivity  of  the  one 
will  which  remains  unmoved  in  the  change:  it  alone  is 
thing-in-itself;  every  object  is  appearance.” 3 

i.  Schopenhauer's  argument  }or  the  doctrine  that  ultimate 
reality  is  oj  the  nature  o]  will 

The  argument  by  which  Schopenhauer  reaches  this  sig- 
nificant result  is  curiously  indirect.  I come  to  the  knowledge 
of  my  willing  self,  he  teaches,  through  consciousness  of  my 
body.  I am  no  ‘ winged  cherub-face  without  a body’ ; 4 and, 
indeed,  each  of  my  volitions  is  accompanied  by,  and,  in  part, 
consists,  Schopenhauer  says,  of  a movement  of  my  body. 
This  invariable  coincidence  of  volition  and  bodily  movement 
must  indicate,  he  teaches,  that  my  body  is  a manifestation  of 
will.  But  my  body  is  not  an  isolated  phenomenon.  As 
already  shown,  it  is  closely  interrelated  with  other  objects, 
it  is  a part  of  a continuous  organic  process ; it  is,  indeed,  more 
or  less  closely  related  with  every  physical  object.  If,  then, 
my  body  is  an  expression  of  will,  so  also  must  all  these  re- 
lated bodies  be  expressions  of  will.  “ The  whole  body,  . . . 
therefore  also  the  process  through  and  in  which  it  consists 
is  nothing  other  than  phenomenon  of  the  will,  the  becoming 

Schopenhauer’s  doctrine  of  the  one,  ultimate  reality  is  none  the  less  allied 
to  Spinoza’s,  and  was  doubtless  indirectly  affected  by  it. 

1 “ The  World  as  Will  and  Idea,”  § 2r,  Translation,  I.,  p.  142  (Werke, 
II.,  p.  131).  2 Ibid.,  § 231. 

3 Ibid.,  § 281.  4 Ibid.,  § 18,  Translation,  I.,  p.  129  (Werke,  II.,  p.  118). 


The  Philosophy  of  Schopenhauer  349 

visible,  the  objectivity  of  the  will.”1  And  yet  these  bodies 
external  to  mine  are  surely  not  expressions  of  my  individual 
will:  there  must  exist,  then,  the  absolute  will,  manifesting 
itself  in  all  nature  phenomena  and  in  all  finite  selves. 

The  doctrine  for  which  Schopenhauer  presents  the  argu- 
ment outlined  in  the  preceding  paragraph  forms  the  basis  of 
his  system,  and  the  argument,  therefore,  demands  careful 
criticism.  He  has  to  prove  (1)  that  every  object  is  a mani- 
festation of  will,  and  (2)  that  the  will  expressed  in  external 
phenomena  is  absolute.  As  has  just  been  indicated,  he  leads 
to  the  first  of  these  conclusions  by  the  following  steps : (a)  the 
psychologically  accurate-  recognition  of  the  correspondence 
between  volition  and  bodily  movement,  and  ( b ) the  inference 
that  external  objects,  because  closely  related  with  my  body, 
must,  like  my  body,  themselves  be  forms  of  will.  But  (a) 
the  correspondence  of  volition  and  movement  cannot  prove 
that  movement  is  identical  with  volition.  And,  similarly,  ( b ) 
the  interconnection  of  human  body  and  external  object  can- 
not demonstrate  the  identity  of  their  nature : the  argument 
has,  at  best,  but  the  force  of  an  analogy.  It  is  curious  that 
Schopenhauer  should  lay  such  stress  on  an  argument  so  weak 
throughout,  for  he  has  really  no  need  of  it.  He  has  shown 
that  every  object  is  a fact-for-self,  an  object  within  experi- 
ence. If  then,  as  he  asserts  on  the  ground  of  introspection, 
the  self  is  in  its  inmost  nature  will,  it  follows  at  once,  with- 
out intermediate  proof,  that  all  objects,  inorganic  and  or- 
ganic, are  manifestations  of  will. 

2.  Schopenhauer's  assumption  that  ultimate  reality  is  a 
single  One 

There  remains  the  second  teaching  of  Schopenhauer  about 
ultimate  reality.  He  has  argued  that  it  is  of  the  nature 
of  will : he  has  now  to  show  that  this  will  is  one  and  uncon- 
ditioned, in  other  words,  that  one  absolute  will,  not  count- 

1 “ The  World  as  Will  and  Idea,”  § 203,  Translation,  I.,  p.  140  (Werke, 
II.,  p.  129). 


350  The  Advance  toward  Monistic  Spiritualism 

less  coordinate  wills,  forms  the  reality  behind  phenomena. 
But  it  is  fair  to  say  that  he  never  definitely  proves  the 
absoluteness  of  the  will;  he  rather  takes  it  for  granted. 
That  it  is,  however,  possible  to  prove  the  necessity  of 
a single  all-including  One,  behind  all  the  single  in- 
dividuals, Kant  had  suggested,  Fichte  and  Schelling  had 
explicitly  taught,  and  Hegel  was  yet  to  demonstrate.  But 
though  he  did  not  prove  it,  Schopenhauer  certainly  believed 
that  a single,  absolute  will  expresses  itself  in  all  phenomena. 
“The  force,”  he  exclaims,  “which  vegetates  in  the  plant, 
even  the  force  through  which  the  crystal  expands,  the  force 
with  which  the  magnet  turns  to  the  pole  . . . yes,  even  grav- 
ity which  so  powerfully  strives  in  all  matter,  attracting  the 
stone  to  the  earth  and  the  earth  to  the  sun  — these  all  . . . 
[are  identical  with  that  which]  ...  is  called  will.  ...  It  is 
the  innermost  nature,  the  kernel  of  every  individual  and  of 
the  whole;  it  appears  in  every  blindly  working  nature 
force,  it  appears,  also,  in  the  reflective  activity  of  man,  for 
the  great  diversity  of  these  two  is  only  in  the  degree  of  the 
manifestation,  not  in  the  essential  nature  of  that  which 
manifests  itself.”1 

All  these  illustrations  of  nature  forces  as  expressions  of 
the  ultimate  reality  must  not  obscure  the  fact  that  Scho- 
penhauer conceives  these  forces  as  forms  of  conscious  will 
and  that,  contrariwise,  he  does  not  conceive  the  will  after 
Schelling’s  fashion,  as  a function  of  unconscious  nature 
force.  “Before  this,”  Schopenhauer  says,  “people  have 
subsumed  the  concept  of  will  under  the  concept  of  force.  I 
do  just  the  contrary,  and  would  have  every  force  in  nature 
thought  as  will.  This  is  not  to  be  regarded  as  an  indifferent 
strife  of  words : it  is  rather  of  the  highest  worth  and  signi- 
ficance. For  the  concept  ‘force’  is  ...  in  the  end  based 
upon  and  exhausted  by  the  perceptual  knowledge  of  the  ob- 
jective world,  that  is,  by  the  phenomenal.  The  concept  ‘force’ 


1 “The  World  as  Will  and  Idea,”  § 21. 


The  Philosophy  of  Schopenhauer  351 

is  abstracted  from  the  domain  in  which  cause  and  effect  rule, 
and  means  precisely  the  causality  of  the  cause  at  the  point 
where  it  is  no  longer  aetiologically  explicable.  . . . The  con- 
cept ‘will’  on  the  other  hand,  is  the  only  one  . . . whose 
source  is  not  in  the  phenomenal,  in  the  purely  perceptual,  but 
in  . . . the  most  immediate  consciousness  of  every  man.”  1 
It  is  true  that  in  discussing  detailed  topics  of  his  nature  phi- 
losophy, Schopenhauer  appears,  often,  to  lose  sight  of  his 
own  wrarning  and  to  conceive  of  conscious  will  as  a function 
of  the  ‘blind,  inexorable  pressure  ( blinder , unaujhaltsamer 
Drang)'  of  unconscious  nature.2  We  have  a right,  however, 
to  hold  him  to  his  express  assertion  and  to  state  his  doctrine 
as  the  conception  of  an  absolute,  conscious  will,  manifested 
in  individual  human  wills  and  in  external  nature. 

3.  Schopenhauer's  conception  of  the  will  as  unsatisfied 
desire : the  ethics  0 f Schopenhauer 

Schopenhauer’s  statement  that  the  self  is  essentially  will 
has,  so  far,  been  accepted  without  close  analysis  of  the  con- 
ception involved.  The  time  has  come  to  inquire  more  pre- 
cisely what  he  means  by  will.  Fichte’s  doctrine  of  the  will 
has  especially  concerned  itself  with  the  moral  will ; Schopen- 
hauer, closely  following  Schelling,  interprets  the  will  as  an 
inexplicable,  inarticulate  activity  — a striving,  a yearning. 
Fichte  has  looked  upon  the  progressive  change  of  ideals, 
the  ceaseless  adoption  of  a fresh  end  when  a primary  end  has 
been  attained,  as  a mark  of  the  alliance  of  the  finite  with  the 
infinite,  an  indication  that  the  finite  must  ever  burst  the  bonds 
of  finitude.  Schopenhauer,  on  the  other  hand,  lays  stress 
on  the  unattainableness  of  any  completely  satisfying  aim, 
and  conceives  the  will  as  a striving  for  the  unattainable. 
“The  striving,”  he  says,  “of  all  the  manifestations  of  will 

1“The  World  as  Will  and  Idea,”  § 22,  Translation,  I.,  pp.  144-45; 
Werke,  I.,  p.  133.  Cf.  Werke,  II.,  p.  362  and  Translation  II.,  p.  405. 

2 Ibid..,  § 541.  This  is  the  conventional  interpretation  of  Schopenhauer. 


352  The  Advance  toward  Monistic  Spiritualism 

. . . must  ever  be  repressed,  can  never  be  filled  or  satisfied. 
Every  goal  attained  is  merely  the  starting-point  of  a new  race; 
and  so  on  to  infinity.”  1 From  the  fact  of  this  ceaselessly 
unsatisfied  activity  in  all  the  individual  manifestations  of 
the  infinite  will,  there  follows  the  struggle  which  we  see  in 
nature  all  about  us.  “Everywhere  in  nature  we  see  com- 
bat, struggle  and  varying  fortune  of  war.  . . . The  uni- 
versal struggle  is  most  readily  seen  in  the  animal  world  which 
lives  on  the  vegetable  world,  and  in  which  every  animal  be- 
comes the  prey  of  another.  . . . Thus  the  will  to  live  for- 
ever devours  itself.”  2 

This  one-sided  conception  of  the  will  — interpreted  always 
in  terms  of  the  lowest,  most  primitive,  activity  of  self-con- 
sciousness — forms  the  basis  of  the  two  main  applications 
made  by  Schopenhauer  of  his  metaphysical  teaching:  his 
pessimism,  and  his  practical  ethical  doctrine.  The  pessimism 
is  an  obvious  corollary  of  the  metaphysics:  granted  that 
ultimate  reality  is  will,  and  that  will  is  nothing  more  nor  less 
than  unsatisfied  desire,  it  follows,  of  necessity,  that  the  world 
is  “the  worst  possible,”3  and  that  “all  life  is  misery.  . . . 
The  basis  of  all  willing,”  Schopenhauer  says,  “is  need,  lack, 
therefore  pain.  . . . Yet  if  one  have  no  object  of  will, 
one  is  assailed  by  frightful  emptiness.  . . . Life,  therefore, 
vibrates  between  pain  and  ennui.”4  Thus,  philosophical 
reasoning  substantiates  the  results  of  empirical  observation : 
“Pleasure  is  always  negative;  only  pain  is  immediately 
given;”5  and  “the  life  of  almost  every  man  is  simply  a con- 
stant struggle  for  life,  with  a certainty  of  losing  it  in  the  end.”6 

On  this  pessimistic  theory  of  the  universe  Schopenhauer 
builds  up  his  ethics  — a system  strangely  opposed,  on  its 
negative  side,  to  the  theories  of  Fichte  and  of  Kant.  In  sharp 

1 “The  World  as  Will  and  Idea,”  § 29s,  Translation,  I.,  p.  214  (Werke, 
II.,  p.  1952). 

2 Ibid.,  § 27,  Translation,  I.,  pp.  191-192  (Werke,  II.,  pp.  174-175). 

5 Ibid.,  Bk.  IV.,  § 56,  end.  4 Ibid.,  § 572.  5 Ibid.,  § 581. 

6 Ibid.,  § 573,  Translation,  I.,  p.  403  (Werke,  II.,  p.  368). 


The  Philosophy  of  Schopenhauer  353 

contrast  with  their  emphasis  upon  the  fact  of  obligation, 
Schopenhauer  insists  that  there  is  no  such  thing  as  ‘uncon- 
ditioned obligation.’  To  call  the  will  free  and  none  the  less 
to  prescribe  laws  for  it  is  pure  contradiction,  he  asserts. 
‘Ought  to  will  — wooden  iron  !’  he  exclaims,  contemptuously.1 
This  part  of  the  ethics  of  Schopenhauer  need  not,  however, 
detain  us,  for  it  is  at  once  evident  that  his  treatment  of  free- 
dom and  of  obligation  is  too  slight  to  be  effective.  Thus, 
he  does  not  attempt  to  account  for  the  fact  that  though  obliga- 
tion be  illusion,  men  none  the  less  do  sometimes  feel  that  they 
‘ought,’  nor  does  he  analyze  and  discuss  the  important  con- 
ceptions of  freedom.2  But  the  denial  of  freedom  is  merely 
the  introduction  to  the  more  important  positive  teaching  of 
Schopenhauer’s  ethics.  This  follows,  as  has  been  said,  from 
his  pessimism,  and  comprises  first,  a doctrine  of  virtue  as 
self-renunciation  and  of  sin  as  selfishness,  and  second,  a 
conception  of  man’s  highest  aim  as  denial  of  the  will  to  live. 

(1)  The  world  — so  Schopenhauer,  as  we  know,  teaches 
— is  inevitably  wretched.  The  source  of  the  wretchedness 
is  this : that  every  individual  realizes  himself  as  one  with  the 
Infinite,  that  each  therefore  asserts  himself  as  ‘centre  of  the 
world,’  and  that  thus  each  “wills  everything  for  himself.”3 
Such  self-assertion  must  become  denial  of  the  rights  of  others, 
and  so  there  results  the  struggle  of  humanity.  The  good 
man  is  he  who,  rightly  tracing  the  world’s  misery  to  its  source, 
no  longer  says,  I partake  of  the  Infinite  and  so  all  is  mine, 
but  rather,  These  others  also  are  expressions  of  the  Infinite 
and  are  thus  of  one  nature  with  me.  Thus,  the  good  man 
“makes  a less  than  ordinary  difference  between  himself  and 
others  . . .,  recognizes  himself,  his  very  self,  his  will, 
in  every  being  . . .,  therefore  also  in  him  who  suffers.”  4 

1 “The  World  as  Will  and  Idea,”  § 53,  Translation,  I.,  p.  351  (Werke, 
II.,  p.  321). 

2 In  particular,  Schopenhauer  does  not  discuss  the  view  that  freedom  is 

expression  of  an  individual  as  opposed,  not  to  the  Infinite,  but  to  other  human 
selves.  3 Ibid.,  § 612. 

4 Ibid.,  § 66,  Translation,  I.,  pp.  480,  482  (Werke,  II.,  pp.  439,  441). 


354  The  Advance  toward  Monistic  Spiritualism 

The  good  man  realizes  that  the  happiness  or  the  life  of  a 
multitude  of  human  beings  overweighs  his  own  individual 
interest.  And  he  will  therefore  “sacrifice  his  own  well- 
being and  his  life  for  the  good  of  . . . others.  So  died 
Codrus,”  Schopenhauer  exclaims,  “ so  died  Leonidas,  Regulus, 
Decius  Mus,  Arnold  von  Winkelried  — so  dies  every  man 
who  freely  and  consciously  goes  to  certain  death  for  his  friends 
and  for  his  fatherland.”  1 

In  its  highest  form,  self-abnegation  becomes  pure  denial 
of  the  will  to  live,  the  renunciation  of  one’s  individuality 
as  a thing  of  unreality.  Schopenhauer’s  words  are  the  best 
exposition  of  this  culminating  doctrine:  “As  we  saw  that 
hate  and  evil  are  conditioned  by  egoism,  and  that  this  rests 
on  the  capture  of  knowledge  by  the  principle  of  individuation, 
so  we  discovered  as  the  source  and  the  essence  of  righteous- 
ness . . . that  penetration  of  this  principle  of  individuation 
which  annihilates  the  difference  between  myself  and  the  for- 
eign self.  ...  If  now  this  penetration  of  the  individuality, 
this  immediate  knowledge  of  the  identity  of  will  in  all  its 
manifestations,  is  present  to  a high  degree  of  definiteness,  it 
will  . . . show  a still  wider  influence  on  the  will.  If  ...  a 
man  no  longer  makes  the  egoistic  distinction  between  his  own 
person  and  that  of  another  . . . then  he  knows  the  whole, 
comprehends  its  essential  nature,  and  finds  it  to  consist  in 
constant  passing  away  ( Vergehen ),  in  futile  striving,  in  inner 
contradiction,  and  in  persisting  sorrow ; he  sees,  wherever  he 
looks,  suffering  humanity,  the  suffering  animal  creation,  a 
vanishing  world.  But  all  this  is  as  close  to  him  as  only  his 
own  person  is  close  to  the  egoist.  How  should  he,  then,  with 
such  a knowledge  of  the  world  affirm  such  a life  as  this  by 
repeated  acts  of  will?  . . . Rather,  this  knowledge  of  the 
whole,  of  the  essence  of  reality,  becomes  the  quietus  of  each 
and  every  act  of  will.  The  will  turns  from  life.  . . . The 
man  attains  a condition  of  freely  willed  renunciation,  of 


1 “ The  World  as  Will  and  Idea,”  § 6f. 


The  Philosophy  of  Schopenhauer  355 

resignation,  of  true  indifference,  of  entire  will-less-ness.”  1 
Asceticism  and  poverty  are  the  outward  marks  of  this  anni- 
hilation of  the  will ; the  absorption  of  Christian  mystics  and 
of  Oriental  religionists  are  its  extreme  forms;  inner  peace 
and  true  heaven’s  rest  are  its  accompaniments.  In  such  a 
state,  “ there  is  manifested  to  us,  in  place  of  the  constant  change 
from  wish  to  fear  and  from  joy  to  sorrow,  in  place  of  never 
satisfied  and  never  dying  hope,  . . . that  peace  which  is 
higher  than  all  reason  — that  perfect  ocean  stillness  of  the 
mind.  . . . Knowledge  alone  is  left,”  Schopenhauer  con- 
cludes, “will  is  vanished.  . . . For  all  those  who  are  still 
pervaded  by  will,  what  remains,”  he  admits  in  the  final 
sentence  of  the  book,  “is  Nothing.  But  ...  for  those  in 
whom  the  will  has  turned  upon  and  negated  itself,  to  them 
this  very  real  world  of  ours,  with  all  its  suns  and  milky  ways 
— is  Nothing.” 

II.  Estimate  of  Schopenhauer’s  Teaching 

The  preceding  summary  has  briefly  outlined  Schopen- 
hauer’s metaphysical  system  and  its  most  important  applica- 
tions, omitting  only  his  curiously  parenthetical  discussion  of 
aesthetics.  This  discussion,  in  itself  of  the  greatest  merit, 
cannot  make  good  its  claim  to  an  inherent  connection  with 
Schopenhauer’s  strictly  philosophical  doctrine.2  The  most 
important  difficulties  of  the  system  must  next  be  enumerated. 
They  fall  into  two  main  groups. 

a.  The  inadequacy  0}  Schopenhauer' s conception  0}  the  will 

In  the  first  place,  as  has  been  suggested,  Schopenhauer 
misconceives  the  nature  of  the  will.  The  dissatisfied  yearn- 
ing, unattained  striving,  to  which  he  constantly  gives  the  name 
‘ will,’  is  mere  wish  or  desire,  not  active,  self-assertive  will. 

1 “The  World  as  Will  and  Idea,”  § 68,  paragraphs  2-3,  Translation,  I., 

pp.  488  seq.;  Werke,  I.,  447  seq.  2 Cf.  Appendix,  p.  554. 


356  The  Advance  toward  Monistic  Spiritualism 

This  follows  from  the  testimony  of  self-consciousness,  whose 
authority  Schopenhauer  must  admit,  since  upon  it  he 
rests  his  doctrine  that  ultimate  reality  is  identical  with  will. 
“To  the  reality-in-itself,”  he  says,  “[underlying]  the 
world  of  idea,  we  can  attain  only  by  . . . taking  into 
account  self-consciousness  ( mittelst  Hinzuziehung  des  Selbst- 
bewusstseins),  which  testifies  to  the  will  as  the  in-itself  of 
our  idea  (Erscheinung).”  1 But  the  will  to  which  self-con- 
sciousness testifies  certainly  is  not  identical  with  blind  yearn- 
ing. At  most,  it  only  includes  this  unsatisfied  desire  as  one 
of  its  elements;  its  essential  character  is  rather  the  affirming, 
espousing,  domineering  assertion  of  itself.  Schopenhauer 
tacitly  admits  this  in  the  teaching  that  the  highest  act  of  con- 
sciousness is  ‘freely  willed  renunciation  ( jreiwillige  Ent- 
sagung ).’2  It  is  true,  he  calls  this  freely  willed  renunciation 
‘ will-less-ness’ ; but  in  so  doing  he  obviously  implies  what 
he  verbally  denies.  For  that  which  is  freely  renounced  is 
desire,  or  yearning,  not  will ; and  the  renunciation  is  the  as- 
sertion of  a self  deeper  than  all  objects  of  desire  — is,  in  other 
words,  what  Schopenhauer  virtually  calls  it,  free  will.  There 
is,  furthermore,  another  reason  for  rejecting  Schopenhauer’s 
conception  of  will,  as  an  account  of  ultimate  reality.  Even 
granting  (what  has  just  been  shown  to  be  contrary  to  experi- 
ence) that  the  individual  will  consists  of  unsatisfied  yearning, 
it  is  certain  that  no  absolute  reality  can  thus  be  defined.  For 
the  Absolute  is  precisely  the  complete,  the  all-including; 
it  cannot  then  be,  in  its  essence,  unfulfilled  desire. 

The  rejection  of  Schopenhauer’s  conception  of  the  will 
overthrows  those  parts  of  his  system  which  are  built  upon  it. 
The  first  of  these  is  the  pessimistic  estimate,  already  sum- 
marized, of  the  universe.  This  is  the  part  of  his  teaching 
by  which  he  is  best  known ; but  the  common  estimate  of 
him  as  mere  prophet  of  pessimism  is  both  unfortunate  and 

1 “ Critique  of  the  Kantian  Philosophy,”  Translation,  II.,  p.  31  (Werke, 
II.,  p.  517). 

2 For  the  context,  cf.  supra,  p.  354. 


The  Philosophy  of  Schopenhauer  357 

unjust.  Brilliant  and  appealing  as  his  pessimism  is,  it  is  after 
all  only  an  offshoot  from  his  metaphysical  doctrine,  and  is 
not  to  be  compared,  in  strength  of  argument  or  in  keenness 
of  analysis,  with  the  idealistic  philosophy  on  which  it  is  based. 
Its  immediate  foundation  is,  as  has  been  shown,  the  convic- 
tion that  ultimate  reality  is  ceaseless  yearning.  From  this 
premise  it  would  certainly  follow  that  all  life  must  be  misery. 
But  with  the  refutation  of  this  doctrine  — that  absolute 
reality,  or  will,  is  unfulfilled  desire  — the  necessity  of  uni- 
versal wretchedness  falls  away.  The  actual,  empirically 
observed  existence  of  wretchedness  and  sorrow  is,  of  course, 
still  to  be  reckoned  with ; and  the  abiding  value  of  Schopen- 
hauer’s pessimism  is  the  relentlessness  with  which  he  insists 
upon  the  grim  facts  of  misery  and  anguish.  In  these  unques- 
tioned facts,  and  not  in  any  metaphysical  necessity  of  unhap- 
piness, the  problem  of  pessimism  is  to  be  found.  It  is 
Schopenhauer’s  merit  to  have  forced  it  upon  the  attention  of 
idealistic  philosophers. 

With  the  doctrine  of  the  necessity  of  misery  vanishes,  also, 
Schopenhauer’s  positive  ethical  theory.  For  that  consists, 
as  has  been  shown,  in  the  teaching  that  Dity  is  the  only  duty. 
With  the  certainty  that  the  human  being  is  more  than  a long 
drawn  out  desire,  comes  the  need  of  a wider  formulation  of 
one’s  duty  toward  him.  The  groundwork  of  a doctrine  of 
sin  and  of  virtue  has,  however,  been  laid  by  Schopenhauer, 
in  spite  of  the  defects  of  his  moral  system.  His  diagnosis  of 
sin  as  narrow  and  self-centred  individualism,  his  descrip- 
tion of  virtue  as  the  progressive  realization  of  one’s  unity 
with  the  lives  of  other  human  beings,  form  the  core  of  an 
idealistic  doctrine  of  the  content  of  the  moral  consciousness. 

It  should  be  added  that  the  persisting  part  of  Schopen- 
hauer’s doctrine  is,  to  all  appearance,  its  pessimism.  In  the 
hands  of  one  of  his  disciples,  von  Hartmann,  Schopenhauer’s 
teaching  of  the  unappeasable  nature- will  becomes,  indeed,  a 
non-idealistic  doctrine,1  and  another  adherent,  Nietsche, 


1 Cf.  Appendix,  p.  557. 


358  The  Advance  toward  Monistic  Spiritualism 

builds  on  a pessimism  like  Schopenhauer’s  an  ethical  sys- 
tem utterly  opposed  to  his  — a theory  which  condemns  pity 
and  enjoins  egoism.1 

b.  The  inadequacy  0}  Schopenhauer's  conception  0}  the  ulti- 
mate reality  as  pure  will 

A second  fundamental  objection  must  now  be  made  to 
Schopenhauer’s  metaphysical  teaching : not  only  is  his  con- 
ception of  will  at  fault,  but  his  doctrine  that  one  is  conscious 
of  oneself  as  willing  only,  not  as  knowing,  is  untrue  to  intro- 
spection. That  self  whom  we  intimately  know  is  indeed  will, 
but  is  more  than  will.  The  support  of  this  assertion  is  that 
appeal  on  which,  as  has  appeared,  Schopenhauer  himself 
bases  all  his  teaching,  to  the  self-consciousness  of  the  indi- 
vidual. Surely  each  one  of  us  is  conscious  of  himself,  not 
only  in  his  active  attitudes  of  asserting  his  own  individuality 
in  opposition  to  other  selves  or  things,  or  in  actively  identi- 
fying himself  with  the  interests  of  others,  or  even  in  impotently 
yearning  and  desiring:  one  is  conscious  of  oneself,  also,  as 
thinking  and  perceiving.  The  thought  and  the  perception, 
it  is  true,  ally  the  one  individual  with  others,  but  they  are  none 
the  less  integral  parts  of  one’s  single,  individual  self. 

The  only  objection  urged  by  Schopenhauer  to  this  simple 
deliverance  of  self-consciousness  is  the  logical  contradiction 
which  is,  supposedly,  involved  in  the  doctrine  that  a self 
knows  itself.2  This  is  identified  with  the  doctrine  that  the 
subject  and  the  object  of  knowledge  are  one  — a state- 
ment which  is  then  branded  as  a sheer  contradiction.  To 
this  it  may  be  replied  that  the  very  definition  of  knowledge, 
as  relation  of  a subject  to  an  object,  is  an  attempt  to  describe 
the  immediately  certain  consciousness  of  self.  No  argument 
drawn  from  the  nature  of  this  description  can  possibly,  there- 
fore, impugn  the  reality  of  the  experience  which  the  descrip- 
tion is  to  render  into  words.  Moreover,  the  antithesis  between 

1 Cf.  Appendix,  p.  555,  note. 

2 Cf.  supra,  Chapter  7,  pp.  244 2 seq. ; and  this  chapter,  p.  346. 


The  P kilos ophy  of  Schopenhauer  359 


subject  and  object  (the  root  of  the  difficulty  in  conceiving 
of  the  self  as  knower  of  the  knower)  is  plainly  due  to  the  fact 
that  this  definition  of  knowledge  has  reference  primarily  to 
knowledge  of  external  things,  not  to  knowledge  of  the  self. 
In  being  conscious  of  a phenomenal  fact,  the  subject  (or 
knowing  self)  certainly  does  know  an  object  different  from 
a self.  This,  however,  does  not  argue  against  the  exist- 
ence of  another  sort  of  knowledge,  in  which  there  is  no 
recognition  either  of  subject  or  of  object  — in  which,  rather, 
subject  and  object  coalesce  in  the  experience  of  my  conscious- 
ness of  myself,  as  knowing  and  thinking,  feeling  and  willing.1 

To  sum  up  the  important  points  in  this  estimate  of  Scho- 
penhauer : he  rightly  teaches  that  ultimate  reality  is  an  ab- 
solute self,  though  he  does  not  offer  the  demonstration  ready 
to  his  hand,  of  the  absoluteness  of  this  self.  He  unduly 
limits  this  absolute  self  by  affirming  that  its  nature  is  will 
without  knowledge;  and  he  virtually  annihilates  the  ab- 
soluteness of  the  ultimate  will  by  the  reiterated  teaching  that 
will  is  mere  unattaining  struggle.  None  the  less,  he  distinctly 
conceives  of  ultimate  reality  as  absolute  person.  His  doc- 
trine may  therefore  be  classed  as  complete,  though  not  as 
wholly  adequate,  monistic  idealism.  At  all  events,  in  its 
essential  features,  it  is  close  to  Hegel’s  philosophy,  though  so 
utterly  unlike  it  in  form.  Schopenhauer,  it  must  be  admitted, 
would  most  indignantly  have  repelled  this  aspersion,  for 
Hegel’s  system  seemed  to  him,  as  to  so  many  others,  a mere 
broth  of  unintelligible  and  pretentious  terms.  Yet  the  dis- 
tance from  Schopenhauer  to  Hegel  is  short  and  easily  bridged. 

1 The  doctrine,  that  the  self  is  fundamentally  will,  did  not  die  with  Fichte 
and  Schopenhauer,  but  has  been  more  than  once  revived.  A brilliant  modern 
form  of  the  doctrine  is  held  by  Professor  Miinsterberg.  In  the  opinion  of  the 
present  writer,  Miinsterberg  really  inflates  the  conception  of  will  beyond  its 
natural  extent,  making  it  virtually  synonymous  with  self,  and  thus  inclusive 
of  perception  and  thought.  A similar  comment  may  be  made  on  modern 
doctrines  of  ‘voluntarism’  in  psychology.  All  these  doctrines  are  based 
upon  the  true  insight  that  the  will  is  principle  of  individuality,  uniqueness. 


CHAPTER  X 


MONISTIC  SPIRITUALISM:  THE  SYSTEM  OF  HEGEL 

“ . . . The  greatest  master  of  abstract  thought  that  the  world  has 
seen  since  . . . Aristotle  died.  . . . No  one  else  has  so  much  to  tell 
the  searcher  after  truth  who  will  make  the  effort  to  grasp  what  he  has  to 
say.”  — R.  B.  Haldane. 

The  writings  of  Georg  Wilhelm  Friedrich  Hegel  are 
curiously  parallel,  in  their  unhurried  reasoning  to  great  con- 
clusions, to  his  own  slow  progress  from  obscurity  to  brill- 
iant success ; and  in  their  curious  union  of  rationalism  with 
mystical  insight,  to  the  union,  in  his  own  character,  of  pru- 
dence with  good  fellowship.  His  teaching  closely  connects 
itself  with  that  of  his  contemporaries.  With  Fichte  and 
Schelling  he  has  much  in  common— with  the  former,  in 
particular,  his  ‘dialectic  method,’  and  with  the  second  his 
Spinozistic  monism.  The  difference  between  Hegel’s  system 
and  these  others  is,  however,  more  significant  than  the  likeness. 
Fichte,  Schelling,  and  Schopenhauer  all  deny  the  existence 
of  any  reality  save  that  of  self,  yet  each  falls  short  of  the 
completely  monistic  and  adequate  conception  of  absolute 
self.  Fichte  and  Schelling  assert  that  the  self-conscious 
being  is  of  necessity  limited,  and  that  the  Absolute  because 
unlimited  may  not  be  self  or  spirit ; Schopenhauer  admits 
the  self-consciousness  of  the  ultimate  reality,  but  does  not 
adequately  conceive  this  consciousness.  The  character- 
istic which  distinguishes  Hegel  from  preceding  idealists  is 
the  uncompromising  doctrine  that  there  exists  an  absolute 
self,  and  that  every  finite  reality  is  an  expression  of  this  all- 
comprehending  self.  The  first  section  of  this  chapter  is 
occupied  with  the  attempt  to  state  very  clearly  the  argument 
by  which  Hegel  seeks  to  prove  the  existence  of  this  inclusive 

360 


The  System  of  Hegel  361 

self.  The  clearest  and  fullest  formulation  of  this  argument 
is  found  in  the  most  severely  reasoned  of  Hegel’s  metaphysical 
works,  the  “Logik”  (1812-1816),  and  in  the  first  part  of  the 
greatly  abbreviated  restatement  of  his  philosophy  which 
Hegel  called  the  “ Encyclopadie.”  On  the  larger  “Logic,” 
therefore,  and  on  the  “Logic  of  the  Encyclopaedia,”  this 
chapter  is  based.  The  less  adequate  and  less  well-propor- 
tioned argument  of  the  first  part  of  Hegel’s  earliest  book,  the 
“ Phanomenologie,”has  been  mainly  disregarded ; and  Hegel’s 
other  works  are  referred  to  chiefly  as  applications  of  the  doc- 
trine of  the  “Logic,”  and  only  occasionally  for  support  of 
its  arguments.  Hegel’s  arbitrary  use  of  current  philosophical 
terms,  his  high-handed  appropriation  of  common  words,  by 
a change  of  their  ordinary  meaning,  to  philosophical  purposes ; 
his  inordinate  love  of  paradoxical  statements,  and  his  over- 
regard for  systematic  arrangement  and  for  repeated  formulae 
make  his  “ Logics  ” harder  reading  (if  that  is  possible)  than 
Kant’s  “ Kritik”  itself.  But,  however  obscured  by  schematic 
arrangements  or  encrusted  in  words,  Hegel’s  essential  argu- 
ment, expressed  and  implied,  for  monistic  spiritualism  is 
profoundly  significant  and  — in  the  opinion  of  the  writer  of 
this  book  — convincing.1 


1 In  substance,  the  remainder  of  this  chapter  closely  resembles  a paper 
by  the  writer,  on  “The  Order  of  the  Hegelian  Categories  in  the  Hegelian 
Argument,”  published  in  Mind , XII.,  N.S.,  1903.  Certain  paragraphs 
and  sentences,  p.  384,  are,  in  fact,  exact  quotations.  I have,  how- 
ever, changed  my  account  of  the  categories  of  Life  and  Cognition,  largely 
because  of  the  criticism  of  my  colleague,  Professor  Mary  S.  Case ; and  the 
chapter  is  throughout  less  polemical  and  less  technical  than  the  paper  in 
Mind.  It  should  be  added  that  in  both  expositions  I diverge  widely 
from  Hegel’s  own  order  of  thought.  In  so  doing  I doubtless  often  obscure 
or  even  reverse  Hegel’s  characteristic  method.  I believe  that  these  liberties 
with  Hegel’s  text  are  desirable,  in  the  interest  of  clearness,  for  a preliminary 
outline  of  his  doctrine.  But  certainly  this  departure  from  Hegel’s  method 
makes  it  impossible  for  the  student  to  regard  this  chapter  as  a sub- 
stitute for  the  text;  especially  since  the  “Logic”  undertakes  to  discuss  many 
subjects  which  are  not  here  considered.  The  beginner  in  philosophy  is 
warned,  however,  that  Hegel’s  “Logic”  and  “Phenomenology”  demand, 
if  ever  works  demanded,  to  be  read  with  a teacher. 


362 


Monistic  Spiritualism 


This  argument  has  two  main  parts,  one  negative  and  the 
other  positive.  In  the  first  place,  Hegel  refutes  those  theories, 
Kant’s  and  Schelling’s,  which  would  make  the  search  for 
ultimate  reality  futile.  In  the  second  place,  he  argues  for  his 
positive  conception  of  the  all-of-reality  as  absolute  spirit 
or  self.  The  outline  of  his  argument  will  be  more  readily  fol- 
lowed, if  it  is  preceded  by  a brief  summary  of  its  important 
steps.  This  summary  will  serve,  also,  by  its  references  to 
Hegel’s  text,  to  indicate  his  curious  fashion  of  repeating  an 
argument  already  set  forth. 

I.  (Introduction.)  Metaphysics  is  possible,  for 

a.  Ultimate  Reality  is  not  undetermined.  (Bk.  I., 

“ Being  and  Naught.”) 

b.  Ultimate  Reality  is  not  unknowable.  (Bk.  II., 

“Essence  and  Appearance,”  and  parallel 
categories.) 

II.  Ultimate  Reality  is  Absolute  One,  for 

a.  Ultimate  Reality  is  not  a limited,  single  reality; 

for  every  such  single  reality  is 

(1)  ( a ) Same  and  other.  (Bk.  I.,  “Determined 

Being;”  Bk.  II.,  “Identity  and  Differ- 
ence.”) 

(b)  Like  and  unlike.  (Bk.  II.,  “Likeness 
and  Unlikeness;”  Bk.  III.,  “Notion  and 
Judgment.”) 

(2)  Dependent  on  others.  (Bk.  II., 
“ Causality.”) 

b.  Ultimate  Reality  is  not  a composite  of  ultimate 

parts.  (Bk.  II.,  “Finitude  and  Infinity  ” 
and  “Being-for-self ;”  Bk.  II.,  “Action 
and  Reaction;”  Bk.  III.,  “Mechanism.”) 

III.  Ultimate  Reality  is  Absolute  Spirit,  for 

a.  Ultimate  Reality  is  not  mere  Life.  (Bk.  III., 

“Life.”) 

b.  Ultimate  Reality  is  not  “ Finite  Consciousness.” 

(Bk.  III.,  “Cognition.”) 


The  System  of  Hegel  363 

This  Hegelian  argument  must  now  be  considered  step  by 
step.1 

I.  Ultimate  Reality  is  neither  Undetermined  nor 
Unknowable 

Two  forms  of  the  doctrine  which  makes  metaphysics  im- 
possible were  well  known  to  Hegel.  According  to  the  first 
of  these,  reality  in  its  ‘realest,’  its  most  ultimate,  form  must 
be  undetermined;  that  is  to  say,  no  predicate  may  be 
applied  to  it.  A partial  reality  has  attributes:  it  may  be 
round  or  square,  blue  or  red,  soft  or  hard,  pleasant  or  un- 
pleasant, familiar  or  unfamiliar,  psychical  or  physical.  But 
ultimate  reality  has  no  one  of  these  predicates,  nor  indeed, 
according  to  this  view,  any  other  predicate.  For  ultimate 
reality,  it  is  urged,  is  the  all-of-reality,  in  other  words,  un- 
limited reality;  and  every  predicate  applied  to  reality  must 
limit  it.  For  example,  if  a thing  is  visible,  it  cannot  be  in- 
visible; if  it  is  square,  it  cannot  be  round:  in  other  words 
every  predicate,  which  anything  has,  prevents  its  having  the 
opposite  predicate.  Evidently,  then,  since  ultimate  reality 
is  — it  is  held  — unlimited,  it  must  be  without  predicates 
(determinations) ; it  must  be  what  Schelling  called  it,  an 
‘indifference,’  or,  as  Hegel  names  it,  ‘pure  being,’  not  a 
being  of  any  particular  definable  sort  or  kind.  And,  as  such, 
it  is  obviously  unknowable,  since  as  known  it  would  not  be 
utterly  unlimited,  but  would  be  limited  at  least  by  that  one 
predicate  or  determination,  ‘known.’ 

Against  the  doctrine,  just  summarized,  that  ultimate  reality 
is  absolutely  undetermined,  Hegel  offers  the  following  argu- 
ment: Such  ‘pure,’  that  is,  entirely  undetermined,  being  is 
not  reality  at  all:  it  is  nothing.  “There  is  nothing  per- 
ceivable in  it  ... ; there  is  nothing  thinkable  in  it.  Being, 
undetermined,  unmediated  Being,  is  in  fact  Nothing,  and  is 

1 The  headings  of  this  chapter  are,  in  essentials,  those  of  the  summary, 
though  not  all  of  the  latter  are  repeated. 


364 


Monistic  Spiritualism 


neither  more  nor  less  than  Nothing.”  1 This  doctrine,  that 
being  is  as  good  as  nothing,  is  likely  to  strike  the  uncritical 
reader  as  inherently  absurd.  Hegel  indeed  realizes  that  this 
is  the  fate  of  this  teaching.  “Being  and  Non-being  the 
same!”  he  imagines  his  reader  to  exclaim.  “Then  it  is 
all  the  same  whether  I exist  or  do  not  exist,  whether  this 
house  exists  or  does  not  exist,  whether  these  hundred  dollars 
are  or  are  not  in  my  possession.” 2 But  such  objections 
overlook  the  fact  that  it  is  only  undetermined,  or  pure,  being 
which  Hegel  asserts  to  be  mere  nothing.  A house,  a dollar, 
a human  being  — each  of  these  is  a determined  being,  and 
is  distinguished  from  ‘nothing’  by  the  possession  of  innumer- 
able positive  characters;  but  pure  being  is,  by  hypothesis, 
without  characters : it  is  in  no  place,  for  place  would  limit 
it ; it  is  at  no  time,  for  a temporal  position  would  be  a de- 
termination; it  is  neither  inorganic  nor  organic,  conscious 
nor  unconscious,  matter  nor  spirit  — it  is  nothing!3  But 
such  a conception  of  ultimate  reality  it  is  impossible  to  hold. 
Whatever  it  is,  it  is  somewhat,  not  nothing.  For,  at  the  very 
least,  ultimate  reality  includes,  or  is  identical  with,  my  present 
moment’s  thought  about  it;  and  a fact  of  consciousness  — 
even  the  fact  of  saying  to  oneself  “ultimate  reality  is  pure 
being”  — is  a determined  reality,  since  it  has  at  least  the 
attribute  of  consciousness.  In  other  words,  ultimate  reality 
certainly  has  this  attribute : it  may  be  thought  about  or 
guessed  at ; and  the  possession  of  even  a single  attribute  turns 


1 Werke,  III.,  p.  731;  Stirling,  p.  3201.  (References  to  the  larger  “Logik” 
are  made  to  the  later  edition  of  Hegel’s  Works,  cited  as  Werke,  III., 
IV.,  and  V.  Quotations  from  Bk.  I.  ( Seyn ) are  often  also  referred  to 
James  Hutchinson  Stirling’s  translation,  contained  in  his  “Secret  of  Hegel,” 
Vol.  I.,  first  edition,  1865.)  The  names  of  categories  are  capitalized  in  the 
quotations  from  Hegel  and  in  the  footnotes. 

2 Werke,  III.,  p.  77 3;  Stirling,  p.  325s.  Cf.  “Encyclopaedia,”  § 88(2).  (Ref- 
erences to  the  “Encyclopaedia,”  are  uniformly  to  the  sections  of  the  “En- 
cyclopaedia,” third  edition,  contained  in  Werke,  Vol.  6;  and  translated  by 
William  Wallace.) 

3 Cf.  Berkeley’s  parallel  argument  against  one  conception  of  matter, 
supra,  pp.  13 1 seq. 


The  System  of  Hegel 


365 


ultimate  reality  into  determined  being.1  Thus,  to  recapitu- 
late : Pure,  or  undetermined  being,  would  be  nothing.  But 
the  ultimate  reality  has,  at  least,  the  attribute  of  being  thought 
about.  Therefore  ultimate  reality  is  determined ; and  meta- 
physics is  justified  in  its  avowed  aim,  the  discovery  of  the 
nature  of  ultimate  reality.2 

Hegel  has  thus  disposed  of  one  of  the  theories  which  would 
make  impossible  a true  metaphysics  — an  honest  effort  to 
get  at  the  nature  of  ultimate  reality.  If  ultimate  reality  were 
without  characters,  it  would  be  useless  to  seek  to  know  it ; 
but  since  it  is  somehow  determined,  one  need  not,  at  the  out- 
set, despair  of  apprehending  it.  At  this  point,  however,  an- 
other objection,  or  another  form  of  the  same  objection,  may 
be  made.  Granting  that  ultimate  reality  has  positive  char- 
acters, must  it  not  be  utterly  independent  of  the  objects 
of  human  knowledge,  entirely  cut  off  from  the  facts  of  our 
experience?  Our  objects  of  knowledge  are  fettered  by  the 
forms  and  the  limitations  of  human  consciousness : they 
exist,  as  Kant  has  shown,  under  the  subjective  forms  of  space 
and  time,  of  causality  and  the  other  relations.  Must  we  not 
suppose  that  ultimate  reality  has  characters  of  its  own,  that 
it  is  free  at  least  from  the  determinations  of  our  conscious- 
ness? This  is,  in  truth,  the  supposition  of  Kant  and  of 
all  others  who  teach  the  existence  of  the  thing-in-itself, 
the  reality  independent  of  consciousness  and  of  objects  of 

1 Werke,  III.,  p.  97s;  Stirling,  p.  3482.  “Being  . . . belongs  to  a sub- 
ject, is  expressed  [therefore,  thought  about],  has  an  empirical  existence  and 
therefore  stands  on  the  plane  of  the  limited.  . . . Whatever  the  expression  or 
periphrases  which  Understanding  employs  in  opposing  the  identity  of  Being 
and  Nothing,  it  finds  in  this  very  experience  nothing  except  determined  being.’  ’ 

2 This  summary  of  Bk.  I.,  Section  ( Abschnitt ) I.,  Chapter  1 of  the 
larger  “Logic,”  and  of  §§  86-89  °f  the  “Logic  of  the  Encyclopaedia,” 
neglects  not  merely  Hegel’s  historical  digressions,  but  a psychological  di- 
gression as  well,  on  which  he  lays  stress.  This  is  his  obscure  teaching  that 
Pure  Being  and  Nothing  alike  are  found  to  be  mere  Becoming  (Werden). 
By  this  doctrine,  Hegel  seems  to  mean  no  more  than  the  following:  Pure 
Being  and  Nothing  are  found  each  to  be  an  unsatisfactory  expression  for 
ultimate  reality,  and  therefore  when  reflected  on  they  are  replaced  by  (that 
is,  they  ‘become’)  more  adequate  conceptions  of  reality.  Cf.  Appendix,  549. 


366 


Monistic  Spiritualism 


consciousness.  In  particular,  this  doctrine  is  espoused  by 
many  philosophically  inclined  scientists  and  by  philosophers 
who  come  to  metaphysics  through  natural  science.  Known 
reality,  they  teach,  is  mere  phenomenon  or  appearance. 
But  back  of  the  appearance  there  must  be  a real  essence; 
behind  the  phenomenal  manifestation,  there  must  be  an 
ultimate  force;  beneath  the  outer  phenomenon  must  be 
the  inner  reality;  and  essence,  force,  inner  reality,  are 
not  to  be  known  by  us,  since  what  we  know  is  always  the 
spatially,  temporally,  causally  limited  phenomenon  or  ap- 
pearance. 

Against  the  existence  of  such  independent  reality  Hegel 
urges  two  considerations.  The  first  of  these  is  found  in 
many  sections  of  Book  II.  of  the  “Logic,”  1 and  in  the  third 
chapter,  “Kraft  und  Verstand,”  of  the  “ Phanomenologie.”  2 
It  consists  in  the  proof  that  Kant  and  all  other  philosophers, 
known  to  Hegel,  who  hold  to  the  doctrine  of  an  unknowable 
reality  independent  of  objects  of  consciousness,  really 
teach  that  this  reality  is  in  relation  with  facts  of  human 
experience.  Kant,  for  example,  regards  things-in-them- 
selves  as  source  of  sensations,  and  as  plural  (things-in- 
themselves),  that  is,  as  thought  under  the  forms  of  causality 
and  of  multiplicity.  Still  more  palpably,  those  who  teach 
that  an  unknown  force  is  the  reality  behind  phenomena 
of  magnetism  or  of  growth  assume  the  existence  of  the 
force,  merely  as  explanation  of  the  observed  phenomena. 
“We  see  an  electrical  phenomenon,”  Hegel  says,  “and  we  ask 
for  its  ground  . . . : we  are  told  that  electricity  is  the  ground 
of  this  phenomenon.  What  is  this  but  the  same  content 
which  we  had  immediately  before  us,  only  translated  into  the 

vivi  miirn  v*/ 1 vi  nr<r>  ^ XT  /in-nl  tv*  no  n fko  f fXm  /vnl  T7  ot-mi  TY)  ont 


J 1 J 

form  of  inwardness  ? ” 3 Hegel  means  that  the  only  argument 

1 It  should  be  stated  expressly  that  the  interpretation  given  by  the  writer 
to  this  part  of  Bk.  II.  requires  a very  wide  departure  from  the  actual  order  of 
the  “Logic.”  It  is  for  this  reason  suggested  with  less  confidence  than  the 
remainder  of  this  exposition.  For  justification  cf.  Mind,  loc.  cit.,  N.S.,  XII., 
p.  317  seq. ; and  Appendix,  p.  551.  2 Werke,  II.,  p.  97. 

3 “Encyclopedia, ” § 121.  Cf.  Werke,  IV.,  p.  92s. 


The  System  of  Hegel 


36? 


for  the  existence  of  a ‘force’  is  the  fact  that  it  is  needed  to 
explain  such  and  such  phenomena.  And  attempts,  old  and 
new,  to  define  force  bear  out  this  contention.  Nobody 
knows  what  electricity,  or  mechanical  force,  or  chemical 
affinity  is.1  Each  is  regarded  as  the  hypothesized,  but 
unobserved,  cause  of  a certain  set  of  phenomena,  objects  of 
our  consciousness.  Such  a force,  it  is  evident,  offers  no  defi- 
nite explanation  of  any  particular  phenomenon ; it  is,  indeed, 
as  Hegel  says,  a mere  tautology.2  And  to  claim  that  force, 
thus  conceived,  is  independent  of  phenomena  and  more  real 
than  they,  is  absurd.  For  the  force  can  be  shown  to  exist 
only  if  the  phenomena  are  known  to  exist,  since  the  argument 
for  its  existence  is  simply  this : these  actual  phenomena  must 
have  some  ground.  Whether  conceived  as  thing-in-itself  or 
as  force  behind  phenomena,  the  alleged  independent  reality 
in  truth  turns  out  not  to  be  independent  of  the  fact  of  ex- 
perience but  to  be  closely  linked  with  it,  related  to  it.  There 
is,  then,  no  reason  to  hold  that  ultimate  reality  is  outside  the 
pale  of  possible  objects  of  our  knowledge. 

The  argument  just  outlined  is  based,  it  will  be  observed, 
on  Hegel’s  examination  of  actual  doctrines  of  ultimate  reality 
independent  of  consciousness.  His  procedure  amounts  to 
the  proof  that  the  advocates  of  this  doctrine  have  always,  as  a 
matter  of  fact,  treated  their  alleged  unrelated  reality  as  none 
the  less  in  relation  with  the  world  of  experience.  But  the 
failure  of  all  historical  attempts  (since,  as  well  as  before, 
Hegel’s  time)  to  hold  to  a reality  independent  of  experience 
is  not  in  itself  a disproof  of  the  existence  of  such  a reality. 
Such  a disproof  is,  however,  furnished  by  Hegel’s  positive 
doctrine  and  this  must  now  be  discussed. 

A preliminary  observation  on  Hegel’s  method  is,  however, 
important.  His  constant  effort  is  to  show  that  erroneous 
conceptions  are  self-contradictory.  The  complete  analysis 

1 Cf.  Benno  Erdmann,  “The  Content  and  Validity  of  the  Causal  Law,” 
Philosophical  Review,  1905,  Vol.  XIV.,  p.  163. 

2 “ Encyclopaedia,”  § 1366. 


368 


Monistic  Spiritualism 


of  a wrong  doctrine  serves,  he  believes,  as  a refutation  which 
is  really  a reinterpretation  of  it.  Such  an  analysis,  he  points 
out,  begins  by  substituting  for  the  conception  with  which  one 
has  started  the  opposite  of  it,  but  ends  by  showing  that  the 
truth  lies,  not  in  either  conception,  as  opposed  to  the  other, 
but  in  a third  conception  which  unites,  on  a higher  plane,  the 
essential  features  of  the  initial  conception  and  its  opposite. 
The  movement  of  thought,  just  described,  is  known  by  Hegel 
as  the  ‘ dialectic,’  and  its  three  terms  are,  taken  together,  named 
a ‘ triad.’  Thus,  we  have  seen  that  Pure  Being  is  Nothing,  but 
that  both  Pure  Being  and  Nothing,  because  thought  about,  are 
found  to  be  really  Determined  Being.  In  triad 1 form  we  have, 
therefore : — 

Pure  Being  Nothing 


Determined  Being. 


Similarly,  either  Essence  or  Appearance  (in  other  terms,  Force 
or  Manifestation)  is  believed  by  Hegel  to  be  an  inadequate 
description  of  ultimate  reality.  For  the  force,  as  has  been 
shown,  requires  its  manifestation  (because  it  was  hypothe- 
sized merely  to  explain  the  manifestation),  and  yet  the  mani- 
festation, because  it  is  a limited  event,  demands  the  existence 
of  a more  inclusive  reality.  So  we  have  the  triad : 1 — 


Force  Manifestation 


Actuality  ( i.e . force  in  its  manifestation). 


Hegel’s  use  of  the  triad  form  is  not  always  consistent  with 
itself,  and  it  is  often  arbitrary  and  unessential;  but  funda- 
mental to  the  triad  method  is  the  truth  that  the  complete 
criticism  of  a conception  involves  an  analysis  of  it,  so  that  one 
can  effectively  dispose  of  a doctrine  only  by  making  it  refute 
itself.  This  principle  is  sound  and  helpful;  and  Hegel’s 
constant  use  of  it  is  the  chief  advantage  of  his  method. 


1 Neither  of  these  triads  is  given  by  Hegel  in  precisely  this  form. 


The  System  of  Hegel 


369 


Hegel  starts  from  the  conclusion,  just  argued,  that  ultimate 
reality  is  determined,  in  other  words,  that  it  has  positive 
characteristics.  In  his  opinion,  these  reduce  fundamentally 
to  two : ultimate  reality  is  (1)  an  absolute  One,  and  is  (2) 
spirit.  Hegel  undertakes  to  prove  both  points  by  the  dia- 
lectic method  just  described.  Assuming  the  conclusion 
opposite  to  that  which  he  holds,  he  tries  to  show  that  it  is 
self-contradictory,  and  thus  that  it  implies  the  truth  of  that 
which  it  seems  to  deny.  The  following  summary  of  his 
argument  tries  to  make  this  clear. 

II.  Ultimate  Reality  is  Absolute  One 

This  doctrine  of  the  absolute  and  individual  unity  of 
reality,  receives,  for  a reason  which  will  later  be  indicated, 
far  more  emphasis  than  the  equally  significant  teaching  that 
ultimate  reality  is  spirit.  It  occupies,  in  fact,  all  the  first 
two  books  of  the  “Logic,”  except  those  parts  of  them  already 
considered,  and  two  divisions  of  the  third  book.  It  has  two 
parts : first,  the  demonstration  that  the  ultimately  real  is  no 
single,  isolated  reality,  one  among  others,  even  if  preeminent 
among  them;  and,  second,  the  proof  that  the  determined, 
yet  ultimate,  reality  is  not  a composite  of  unrelated  single 
realities. 


a.  Ultimate  reality  is  not  a single,  limited  reality 

(1)  Every  limited  reality  is  at  least  ‘same’  ( and  perhaps 
‘like’),  and  thus  implies  other  realities 

The  hypothesis  which  Hegel  here  opposes  is  the  ordinary 
conception  of  the  nature  of  philosophy.  According  to  that 
view,  an  ultimate  or  irreducible  reality  may  be  very  limited ; 
hence,  because  philosophy  is  the  study  of  ultimate  reality, 
any  irreducible  reality,  however  limited,  is  object  of  philos- 
ophy. To  this  conception  Hegel  opposes  the  doctrine  that 


8? 

370  Monistic  Spiritualism 

no  strictly  limited  or  isolated  reality  is  irreducible.  He  does 
not,  however,  start  out,  after  the  fashion  of  this  paragraph, 
by  a preliminary  denial  of  the  doctrine.  Here,  as  elsewhere, 
be  begins  by  assuming  the  truth  of  the  doctrine  which  he  op- 
poses, and  by  making  it  disclose  its  own  contradictions  and 
show  the  insufficiency  of  its  claim  to  be  a final  reality.  He 
supposes,  therefore,  that  ultimate  reality  is  some  one  reality, 
among  others ; and  he  asks,  what  necessary  attributes  has  it  ? 
Evidently,  he  replies,  whatever  its  positive  nature,  it  is  at 
the  very  least  identical  with  itself.  The  assertion  is  incon- 
trovertible. A more  obvious  and  certain  attribute  of  any 
and  every  reality  cannot  be  imagined.  Whether  psychical 
or  physical,  permanent  or  momentary,  great  or  small,  every 
reality  must  be  identical  with  itself:  for  example,  round  is 
round;  good  is  good;  matter  is  matter ; I am  I.1 

This  self-identity  directly  and  necessarily  involves  another 
characteristic.  A given  reality,  in  being  the  same  with  itself, 
is  other-than-other-realities.  In  being  round,  round  is  not- 
square;  in  being  good,  good  is  not-bad;  in  being  matter, 
matter  is  not-spirit;  in  being  myself,  I am  not  some  one 
else.  The  otherness  is,  thus,  on  a par  with  the  self-sameness. 
The  two  are  correlated  aspects  of  any  limited  reality,  and 
both  seem  at  first  sight  to  demonstrate  its  isolation. 

But  Hegel  goes  on  to  show  that  both  self-sufficiency  and 
distinctness  testify  to  a relation  between  the  supposedly  iso- 
lated reality  and  other  realities  — a relation  so  close  that  the 
one  cannot  be  thought  without  the  others.  To  be  distinct 
from  others  means  that  there  are  others  from  which  one  is 
distinguished ; and  to  be  identical  with  oneself  implies,  as 
certainly  though  less  directly,  an  opposition  to  others.  More 
than  this:  the  ‘same’  actually  is  the  ‘not-other’;  that  is  to 
say,  relation  to  others  is  not  a mere  external  and  unessential 
appendage,  but  is  itself  an  intimate  part,  a necessary  attri- 
bute, of  every  limited  reality.  Roundness  actually  is  not- 

1 In  Bk.  I.,  Identity  and  Otherness  are  known  under  the  names,  Reality 
(and  Somewhat)  and  Negation. 


The  System  of  Hegel  371 

squareness;  that  is  to  say,  the  full  conception  of  a circle 
includes  the  characteristic  of  differing  from  the  rectangle. 
And  similarly  the  full  consciousness  of  myself  includes,  and 
not  merely  is  accompanied  by,  the  consciousness  of  my  dis- 
tinctness from  other  selves.  Thus  the  most  intimate  and 
apparently  isolating  attribute  of  a limited  reality  — its  self- 
identity  — implies  the  existence  of  other  realities.  It  follows 
that  this  supposedly  ultimate  limited  reality  cannot  be  essen- 
tially realer  than  others,  since  the  very  conception  of  it  re- 
quires the  conception  of  these  other  realities,  in  terms  of 
which  it  must  be  defined.  In  Hegel’s  own  words:  “The 
otherness  is  . . . within  it  as  its  own  element  {Mom ent).”  1 

Both  elemental  and  complex  realities  are  self-identical,  so 
that  the  argument  just  outlined  applies  to  either.  But 
almost  every  theory  of  ultimate  reality  conceives  of  it  as 
complex,  that  is,  as  consisting  of  more  than  one  quality; 
and  every  limited  yet  complex  reality  has  other  characters, 
besides  its  self-identity  and  its  otherness,  which  prevent  its 
being  ultimate.  Among  these  attributes  are  its  ‘likeness’ 
and  its  ‘unlikeness.’ 2 Every  complex  is  like  and  unlike  (as 
well  as  ‘same’  and  ‘other’),  because  it  has  qualities;  and  a 
quality  can  be  described  only  as  the  way  in  which  one  thing 
resembles  one  set  of  things  and  differs  from  another  set.8 
Redness  is  the  way  in  which  tomatoes  are  like  strawberries 
and  unlike  russet  apples ; smoothness  is  the  way  in  which 
tomatoes  are  unlike  strawberries  and  like  russet  apples. 
There  is,  in  fact,  no  way  of  describing  a complex  thing,  except 
by  comparing  it,  in  respect  of  each  of  its  qualities,  with  other 
things.  Evidently  then  its  likeness  and  unlikeness  are  essen- 
tial characters  of  it.  But  this  likeness  and  unlikeness  imply 

1 Werke,  III.,  p.  136;  Stirling,  p.  3814.  Cf.  “Encyclopaedia,”  § 91. 

2 Cf.  “Logik,”  II.,  Abschn.  1,  Kap.  2,  A and  B.  In  III.,  Abschn.  1, 
Kap.  1,  Likeness  and  Unlikeness  appear  again  under  the  names  Univer- 
sality and  Particularity.  Cf.  the  summary  on  p.  362  above,  and  Mind, 
N.S.  XII.,  pp.  322  seq. 

3 Cf.  G.  E.  Muller,  “Zeitschrift  fur  Psychologie  u.  Physiologie,”  Vol.  1/, 
pp.  107  seq.,  1898. 


372 


Monistic  Spiritualism 


the  existence  of  other  realities  than  those  with  which  we 
started,  which  we  have  found  to  be  essentially  ‘like’  and 
‘unlike.’  Therefore,  a single,  complex,  supposedly  unre- 
lated, reality,  just  because  it  turns  out  to  be  inevitably  ‘like  ’ 
and  ‘unlike’  others,  cannot,  in  distinction  from  these  others, 
be  regarded  as  ultimate  reality. 

The  argument  just  outlined  constitutes  one  of  the  most 
characteristic  and  significant  contributions  made  by  Hegel 
to  philosophy.  In  one  or  both  of  its  forms  it  appears  in 
every  book  of  the  “Logic” ; it  involves  categories  of  the  most 
varying  names;  it  is  discussed  on  different  levels  of  philo- 
sophic thought ; yet  it  is  always,  in  the  last  analysis,  the  same 
strong  and  distinctive  argument  which  it  is  Hegel’s  great 
merit  to  have  expounded  and  illustrated,  until  it  has  become 
inwrought  with  the  common  fibre  of  philosophical  doctrine. 
A limited  reality,  he  teaches,  may  not  be  supposed  to  exist 
preeminent  among  others,  yet  unrelated  to  them,  for  it  cannot 
be  conceived  except  as  related  to  these  others.  In  its  aloofness 
and  isolation,  therefore,  such  a single  reality  cannot  be  ultimate 
reality  — ■ the  final  goal  of  the  truth-seeker.  For  it  is  at  least 
identical  with  itself;  and  this  identity  implies  an  otherness 
which  with  the  identity,  the  likeness,  and  the  unlikeness,  is 
an  integral  part  of  itself ; and  otherness,  likeness,  and  unlike- 
ness require  the  existence  of  realities  outside  itself.  Because, 
then,  its  own  existence  is  bound  up  with  that  of  other  realities, 
no  particular  limited  reality  can  be  ultimate. 

In  opposition  to  the  doctrine  of  ultimate  reality  as  limited, 
Hegel  has  now  a second  argument.  It  may  be  stated  thus : — 

(2)  Every  limited  reality  is  dependent  on  others 

In  the  sections  already  outlined,  Hegel  has  shown  that, 
because  every  limited  reality  is  itself  and  not  another,  and 
because  every  complex  is  like  and  unlike  others,  therefore 
no  such  limited,  isolated,  unrelated  quality  or  thing  can  be 


The  System  of  Hegel 


373 


looked  on  as  ultimate  reality.  He  now  goes  on  to  show  that 
the  alleged  unrelated  reality,  besides  implying  others,  is 
dependent  on  them,  that  is,  of  necessity  connected  with  them. 
In  other  words,  no  supposedly  independent  reality  can  make 
good  its  claim  to  independence.  Not  only  does  every  quality 
or  thing  imply  the  existence  of  others,  but  it  is  conditioned 
by  these  others,  inextricably  bound  up  with  them,  influencing 
them  and  influenced  by  them.  To  be  event  or  thing  or  self 
means  to  be  causally  or  reciprocally  related,  that  is,  neces- 
sarily linked  with  others.  The  discussion  of  Kant’s  cate- 
gories has  already  made  this  clear.  There  are  relations  of 
influence,  or  connection,  as  well  as  of  comparison,  and  both 
are  necessary  and  universal.  An  event  is  not  sometimes  part 
of  a causal  series  and  at  other  times  uncaused  and  uncausal : 
on  the  contrary,  to  be  an  event  means  to  be  linked  with  past 
and  with  future;  a mathematical  quantity  is  not  now  and 
again  dependent  on  others,  but  its  being  includes  its  linkages ; 
a human  being  is  not  incidentally  dependent  on  others  and 
in  turn  an  influence  upon  them,  but  rather  a father’s  being 
a father  is  conditioned  on  there  being  a son,  and  a son  is 
always  son  of  a father,  as  a husband  is  husband  of  a wife, 
and  a friend  is  friend  of  a friend.  In  Hegel’s  words,  “ Cause 
and  effect  are  conceived  as  separate  existences  only  when 
we  leave  the  causal  relation  out  of  sight.”  1 No  isolated, 
unrelated  reality,  therefore,  can  be  ultimate,  because  its 
dependence  upon  others,  like  their  dependence  upon  it,  is 
a part  of  its  own  nature ; it  cannot,  then,  be  self-sufficient. 

For  two  reasons  then  the  single,  exclusive,  but  limited, 
reality  cannot,  however  significant,  be  ultimate.  It  is  self- 
identical, and  thus  other-than-others,  and  in  this  way  implies 
them.  It  is  furthermore  necessarily  linked  to  these  others 
in  relations  of  dependence.  It  is  not  merely  accompanied 
by  the  others : rather,  it  contains  the  implication  of  them  and 
the  connection  with  them.  A crucially  important  objection 

1 “Encyclopedia,”  § 1533.  Cf.  Werke,  IV.,  p.  2182. 


374 


Monistic  Spiritualism 


to  the  argument  which  this  paragraph  summarizes  must, 
however,  be  stated.  It  is  the  following : Hegel  proves  only 
that  along  with  every  limited  reality  other  limited  realities 
must  be  thought  to  exist ; he  does  not  prove  that  these  others 
do  actually  exist.  Hence  no  conclusion  about  actual  existence 
may  be  drawn  from  this  argument,  any  more  than  the  con- 
clusion may  be  reached  that  there  is  a God  because  we  have 
an  idea  of  him.  In  agreement  with  this  objection  it  may  at 
once  be  admitted  that  Hegel  does  fail  to  take  the  final  step 
in  his  argument.  Yet  the  step  may  be  supplied.  For,  so 
Hegel  might  have  put  the  argument : if  anything  exist  besides 
itself,  then  any  limited  reality  is  necessarily  related  to  this 
other  reality  by  relations  of  comparison  and  of  dependence. 
And  now  — he  might  have  added,  in  entire  accordance  with 
his  general  teaching  — my  consciousness  of  my  own  limi- 
tation is  a direct  witness  to  the  existence  of  more  than  one 
reality.  Thus,  in  knowing  the  limited  reality  as  related  to 
whatever  else  may  exist,  I know  it  as  related,  not  only  to  an 
ideal  other  (or  others),  but  to  an  actual  other.1 

This  result  makes  a farther-reaching  conclusion  necessary. 
What  has  just  been  proved  of  any  partial  reality,  however 
simple,  must  hold  true  of  every  partial  reality  however 
complex.  It  must  hold  true,  therefore,  of  anything  short  of 
complete  reality.  It  follows  that  ultimate  reality,  what- 
ever else  may  be  said  of  it,  must  be  conceived  as  all-that- 
there-is.  For  any  lesser  ultimate  reality  would  imply  the 
existence  of  what  was  left  of  reality,  and  would  be  ultimate 
only  in  connection  with  that  remainder.  Thus  the  signifi- 
cant conclusion  is  reached  that,  as  Spinoza  had  insisted, 
ultimate  reality  is  albof-reality,  and  not  merely  some  one 
reality,  realer  than  the  others.  In  Hegel’s  own  words,  “ Das 
Wahre  ist  das  Ganze,”  the  true  is  the  whole.  To  attain  the 
goal  of  metaphysics  it  is  necessary,  therefore,  to  get  at  the 
nature  of  this  complete  reality.  From  the  discovery  that  each 

1 Cf.,  on  the  direct  knowledge  of  existing  plurality,  Taylor’s  criticism  of 
solipsism,  op.  cit.,  pp.  75-76. 


The  System  of  Hegel 


375 


particular  reality  implies  others,  it  at  first  seems  to  follow 
that  the  ultimate  reality  is  a complete  composite  of  these 
particulars.  This  is  the  theory  which  Hegel  next  considers 
in  its  different  forms.  His  attitude  toward  it  is  expressed 
in  the  following  statement : — 

b.  Ultimate  reality  is  not  a composite  0}  all  particular  reali- 
ties — it  is  neither  an  aggregate  nor  a system 

There  are  two  conceptions  of  ultimate  reality  as  mere 
composite.  The  two  agree  in  the  conclusion  which  is  the 
outcome  of  the  doctrine  just  outlined,  that  ultimate  or  final 
reality  must  be  absolutely  complete : if  anything,  however 
trivial  or  insignificant,  exist  independently  of  it,  that  is,  if  it 
fail  to  include  every  scrap  and  shred  of  reality,  then  there  is 
something  outside  and  beyond  it,  it  is  no  longer  ultimate. 
But  if  ultimate  reality,  now  proved  to  be  all-of-reality,  is 
simply  a composite,  it  must  be  complete ; it  must  include,  in 
other  words,  every  single  bit  of  reality  which  exists  now  in 
every  cranny  of  every  world ; it  must,  indeed,  include  every 
reality  which  is,  or  which  has  been,  or  which  is  to  come. 
It  follows,  in  the  first  place,  that  ultimate  reality  is  no  com- 
posite of  temporal  events ; that  it  cannot  consist,  for  example, 
in  the  series  of  transformations  of  the  physical  universe. 
For,  as  Kant  has  shown,1  a temporal  series  is  in  its  essential 
nature  incomplete,  since  every  moment  involves,  by  hypothe- 
sis, both  a preceding  and  a following  moment.  There  is, 
therefore,  no  absolute  beginning  and  no  definite  end  of  time ; 
in  other  words,  a really  complete  composite  cannot  conceiv- 
ably be  a temporal  series.  It  is  true  that,  inasmuch  as 
ultimate  reality  is  admittedly  complete,  the  temporal  events 
are  not  outside  it,  but  in  some  sense  belong  to  it.  Such  events 
must  then  be  regarded  as  partial  and  incomplete  manifesta- 
tions of  an  underlying  reality;  and  such  a reality,  as  com- 

1 “ Kritik  of  Pure  Reason,”  first  and  third  Antinomies;  Hegel,  Werke, 
III.,  pp.  140  seq.,  “Encyclopaedia,”  §§  94  seq.  Cf.  also  supra,  p.  249. 


376 


Monistic  Spiritualism 


plete,  must  in  its  essence  be  more-than-temporal.1  From  this 
common  conviction  that  ultimate  reality  is  a complete  com- 
posite, and  that  it  therefore  does  not  consist  in  a temporal 
series,  the  two  conceptions  of  this  ultimate  reality  now 
diverge. 


(i)  Ultimate  reality  is  not  an  aggregate 

The  first  holds  that  ultimate  reality  is  a mere  plurality  of 
entirely  distinct  and  unrelated  parts.  The  reality  is  thus  in 
these  isolated  particulars,  and  it  is  purely  the  completeness 
of  their  number  which  distinguishes  ultimate  from  incom- 
plete reality.  This  explicit  plurality-conception  of  reality 
Hegel  analyzes  with  his  usual  tiresome,  though  skilful,  itera- 
tion. The  first  result  of  the  analysis  is  the  discovery  that  a 
complete  plurality  of  particular  unrelated  realities  must  be 
unknowable  and  incalculable,  since  no  one  of  these  limited 
real  beings  can  completely  know  the  supposedly  complete 
number  of  particulars  (even  though  these  are  not  conceived 
under  purely  temporal  forms).2  To  prove  a complete  plu- 
rality unknowable  is,  however,  no  conclusive  argument 
against  this  conception  of  ultimate  reality,  for  Hegel  has  as 
yet  established  only  the  presumption  that  ultimate  reality  is 
completely  knowable.  Besides  being  unknowable,  however, 
the  complete  aggregate  shows  itself,  Hegel  teaches,  to  be 
impossible.  In  truth  this  conclusion  has  already  been  implied 
in  the  discovery  that  every  fact,  however  isolated,  consists 
in  its  relations  to  other  facts.  The  existence  of  an  utterly 
disconnected  plurality  of  particulars  (however  complete) 
thus  becomes  more  obviously  impossible  than  the  occur- 
rence of  the  single,  unrelated  reality.  For  every  one  of 
these  so-called  single  and  independent  realities  is  not  only 
self-identical  and  like  others,  but  is  also  either  cause  or 
effect,  or  else  in  reciprocal  relation.  But  if  each  of  its  mem* 

1 Cf.  Spinoza,  “Ethics,”  Pt.  I.,  Prop.  21;  injra , pp.  441  seq. 

2 Cf.  injra,  p.  416. 


The  System  of  Hegel 


377 


bers  is  connected  with  others,  the  plurality  obviously  consists 
of  related  individuals.  In  other  words,  the  supposedly  un- 
connected plurality  turns  out  to  be  a system  of  related  reals. 

(2)  Ultimate  reality  is  not  a complete  and  organically  re- 
lated system  0}  related  partial  realities 

Hegel  is  thus  led  to  the  discussion  of  the  important  plu- 
ralistic doctrine  that  ultimate  reality  consists  in  a whole,  not 
in  an  aggregate  — in  a complete  system  or  organism  of  inter- 
related realities,  not  in  a mere  composite  of  isolated  phe- 
nomena. This  conception  has  such  significance,  inherent 
and  historical,  that  it  merits  the  most  careful  scrutiny.  The 
absolutely  complete  system,  like  the  complete  aggregate, 
includes  everything  which  exists,  however  slight  or  unim- 
portant or  superficial ; and  it  is,  furthermore,  made  up  of 
realities  which  are  not,  in  their  innermost  nature,  temporal. 
From  the  complete  plurality,  however,  it  differs  most  sig- 
nificantly in  the  fact  that  the  particular  realities  of  which 
it  is  made  up  are  completely  related  with  one  another.  The 
systematic  whole-of-realities  is  no  mere  aggregate,  but  the 
closest  conceivable  union  of  like  and  unlike,  causally  and  re- 
ciprocally related  part-realities.  Now  the  conception  of  such 
a systematic  unity  of  related  particulars  certainly  avoids  one 
of  the  objections  to  the  conception  of  ultimate  reality  as  an 
unrelated  aggregate,  in  that  the  related  system  may  be  re- 
garded as  knowable.  For  though  the  complete  knowledge 
of  such  a system  would  require  acquaintance  with  every  part 
of  it,  which  is  not  possible  to  any  finite  knower ; yet  one  may 
be  said  to  know  at  least  the  scheme  of  reality,  in  knowing  it 
as  the  system  of  like  and  unlike  and  dependent  parts.  The 
conclusive  argument  against  the  aggregate-hypothesis  is 
indeed  inapplicable  to  the  related-system  hypothesis.  That 
argument  consisted,  it  will  be  remembered,  in  the  analysis 
of  any  one  of  the  members  of  the  supposedly  unrelated  plu- 
rality, and  in  the  consequent  discovery  that  each  one  is  made 


378 


Monistic  Spiritualism 


up,  at  least  in  part,  of  its  relations  to  other  members.  But  this 
discovery,  though  it  annihilates  the  doctrine  that  ultimate 
reality  is  a mere  heap  of  unrelated  singles,  is  the  support  of 
the  theory  that  precisely  the  organic  unity  of  related  par- 
ticulars constitutes  ultimate  reality.  It  is  not  surprising, 
then,  to  find  that  this  conception  of  reality  is  widely  and 
tenaciously  held  in  very  varying  forms.  Leibniz’s  doctrine 
of  the  monads  is  a typical  form  of  such  conceptions.  Fichte’s 
conception  of  an  absolute  I,  which  turns  out  to  be  the  com- 
plete system  of  all  interrelated  selves,  is  the  most  common 
idealistic  form  of  the  doctrine  and  is  repeated  in  many  con- 
temporary conceptions,  for  example,  in  McTaggart’s  teach- 
ing that  ultimate  reality  is  the  complete  community  of  spirits,1 
and  in  Howison’s  conception  of  the  “whole  world  of  Spirits 
including  God,”  the  “many  minds  in  . . . mutual  recog- 
nition of  their  moral  reality.”  2 

But  Hegel  does  not  hold  this  view.3  On  the  contrary,  he 
teaches  explicitly  that  ultimate  reality  is  not  a mere  system, 
made  up  of  its  parts,  but  an  all-including  Individual,  con- 
stituting its  members.  It  is  highly  important  to  discover 
the  exact  meaning  of  this  conception  of  ultimate  reality  as  an 
Individual.  The  expression  will  be  used  in  default  of  any 
other  to  refer  to  a One  which  is  neither  a system  nor  an 
organism.  It  is  true  that  ‘individual’  means  primarily 
‘unique,’ 4 and  that  in  this  sense  a system  or  an  organism 
may  rightly  be  called  individual.  There  is  need,  however, 
of  a single  term  to  describe  a One  which  is  not  a system,  and 

1 “ Studies  in  Hegelian  Cosmology,”  passim. 

2 “ The  Limits  of  Evolution,”  pp.  xv.  and  xiii. 

3 This  statement  is  opposed  to  the  conclusion  of  certain  interpreters  of 

Hegel  — notably  to  that  of  a peculiarly  close  and  careful  student,  J.  McT. 
E.  McTaggart,  who  attributes  to  Hegel  the  doctrine,  just  quoted,  of  the  com- 
munity of  selves.  In  the  opinion  of  the  writer  it  is,  however,  impossible  to 
interpret  Hegel’s  teaching  in  any  other  than  the  general  fashion  of  this  chapter. 
(Cf.  a review  of  McTaggart,  by  the  present  writer,  in  the  Philosophical 
Review,  1903,  Vol.  XII.,  pp.  187  seq.;  and  a discussion  of  “McTag- 
gart’s Interpretation  of  Hegel’s  Category  of  Cognition,”  by  Louise  W.  Allen, 
ibid.,  pp.  694  seq.)  4 Cf.  in)ra,  pp.  408  seq. 


The  System  of  Hegel 


379 


for  this  purpose  the  capitalized  word  Individual,  as  qualified 
by  the  indefinite  article,  answers  as  well  as  any  other  known 
to  the  writer.  It  will  later  appear  that  only  a self  can  be,  in 
this  sense,  an  Individual ; but  this  is  not  yet  manifest.  Now 
of  a composite,  even  if  it  be  a composite  of  related  Indi- 
viduals, the  constituent,  limited  realities  are  the  essential 
feature.  It  is  correct  to  say  that  the  composite  is  made  up 
of  them.  Without  these  many  realities  — atoms  or  monads 
or  spirits  — there  would  not  be  any  composite ; for  example, 
without  soldiers  there  would  be  no  regiment,  without  sheep 
there  would  be  no  flock.1  An  Individual,  on  the  other  hand, 
has  an  existence  fundamental,  logically  prior,  to  that  of  the 
parts  or  of  the  members.  It  is  not  separate  from  them,  but 
it  is  distinguishable  from  them.  It  is  fundamental  to  the 
parts,  whereas  the  parts,  though  they  are  real,  are  not  abso- 
lutely essential  to  it : it  expresses  itself  in  the  parts,  instead  of 
being  made  up  of  them.  A well-known  example  of  this  re- 
lation of  Individual  to  parts  is  the  relation  of  a given  geo- 
metrical figure,  say  a square,  to  the  parts  into  which  it  is 
divided.  Such  a square  is,  perhaps,  divided  into  four  tri- 
angles but  it  is  not,  strictly  speaking,  composed  of  these 
triangles  since,  in  the  first  place,  it  would  remain  though  the 
boundaries  of  the  triangles  were  erased,  and  since,  in  the  sec- 
ond place,  it  can  be  conceived  as  divided  not  into  triangles 
but  into  other  figures  — rectangles,  for  example.2  The  reality 
of  the  square  is  thus  fundamental  to  that  of  the  triangles; 
and  the  triangles  are  to  be  conceived  as  modifications  of  the 
square  — in  Hegel’s  phrase,  as  “ factors  of  a higher  reality.”  3 
Now  Hegel  teaches  in  every  part  of  the  “Logic,”  that  ulti- 
mate reality  is  such  an  Individual  and  not  a mere  composite. 
“The  One,”  he  says,  “forms  the  presupposition  of  the  Many; 
and  in  the  thought  of  the  One  is  implied  that  it  explicitly 

1 Cf.  McTaggart,  op.  cit.,  ii.  “The  unity  which  connects  individuals 
„ . . has  no  reality  distinct  from  them.” 

2 J.  E.  Erdmann  uses  this  figure  in  his  exposition  of  Spinoza. 

3 Encyclopaedia,  § 156,  note. 


380 


Monistic  Spiritualism 


makes  itself  many.”  1 Such  a One  is  not  merely  a related 
system,  it  is  itself  an  Individual.  In  Hegel’s  own  words,  it 
is  both  “a  totality  of  its  particular  members  and  . . . sin- 
gle, particular,  or  exclusive  individuality .”  2 

But  though,  in  the  opinion  of  the  writer,  Hegel  over  and 
over  again  asserts  or  implies  this  doctrine  that  ultimate 
reality  is  an  Individual,  and  not  merely  a system  of  coordinate 
parts  or  an  organism,  it  must  be  admitted  that  he  nowhere 
explicitly  outlines  the  argument  for  this  highly  significant 
conclusion.  To  the  present  writer,  this  neglect  seems  the 
greatest  and  the  most  inexplicable  defect  of  Hegel’s  “Logic.” 
There  is  not  lacking,  however,  an  argument,  perhaps  implied 
by  Hegel,  and  certainly  in  accordance  with  the  spirit  of  Hegel, 
which,  by  analysis  of  the  nature  of  a system,  shows  that  every 
related  system  of  necessity  implies,  that  is,  requires  the  ex- 
istence of,  an  Individual  who  relates.  The  inclusive  whole 
of  coordinate,  interrelated  individuals  is  thus  shown  to  be 
but  the  manifestation  or  expression  of  the  absolute  Indi- 
vidual. The  argument  which,  logically  followed,  leads  to 
this  conclusion,  is  virtually  Kant’s  proof  of  the  existence  of 
a transcendental  self  carried  to  its  inevitable  conclusion  : 3 — - 

It  has  been  seen  that  single  particular  realities  do  form  a 
related  system.  The  question  at  issue  is,  then,  whether  ulti- 
mate reality  consists  simply  in  this  interrelated  system.  To 
answer  this  question,  it  is  necessary,  after  Hegel’s  method, 
to  analyze  closely  the  conception  of  a related  system  or  whole. 
What,  it  will  be  asked,  is  a whole?  It  is  defined  ordinarily 
in  some  such  fashion : the  sum  of  the  relations  of  distinct 

‘“Encyclopaedia,”  § 97,  note.  Cf.  ibid.,  Werke,  III.,  1823  and  175*.  It 
should  be  observed  that  the  Notes,  or  Zusatze.  are  not  parts  of  the  “ Encyclo- 
paedia” as  Hegel  left  it,  but  additions  made  by  the  later  editors,  Hegel’s 
pupils,  from  their  notes  of  his  lectures.  Thus  it  is  evident  that  they  have  not 
the  full  authority  of  Hegel’s  text. 

2 Ibid.,  § 19 1.  (Italics  mine.)  For  discussion  of  the  sense  (not,  of 
course,  a literal  sense)  in  which  Hegel  can  call  the  ultimate  reality  ‘exclusive,’ 
though  he  has  just  named  it  totality,  cf.  infra,  p.  420. 

3 Cf.  “Kritik  of  Pure  Reason,”  Edition  B,  129  seq. ; and  supra,  Chapter  7, 
pp.  229  seq. 


The  System  oj  Hegel  381 

yet  connected  parts.  What,  then,  is  a relation?  It  cannot, 
in  the  first  place,  be  external  to  the  parts  which  it  relates,  else 
it  would  be  still  another  reality  and  would  itself  need  to 
be  related  with  all  the  rest ; and  the  new  relation  would  again 
need  relating,  and  so  on  ad  infinitum.  A relation  external 
to  the  terms  related  would,  in  a word,  be  useless  to  them: 
it  could  not  be  their  relation.  As  Hegel  says,  in  “a  unity 
of  differents  . . .,  a composite,  an  aggregate  . . .,  the  ob- 
jects remain  independent  and  . . . external  to  each  other.”  1 
And  yet,  though  a relation  cannot  be  external  to  the  terms 
which  it  relates,  neither  can  it  be  a quality  inherent  in  any 
or  in  every  one  of  them.  For  the  quality,  or  attribute,  or 
function,  which  is  in  a particular  reality,  cannot  be  the  bond 
between  that  particular  and  some  other.  In  other  words,  if 
ultimate  reality  were  a composite  of  completely  related  terms, 
and  if  the  relations  between  the  terms  were  qualities  of  the 
terms,  each  for  each,  then  the  relations  would  themselves 
need  relating  with  each  other,  for  each  would  belong  to  some 
particular  reality.  There  is  no  escape  from  this  difficulty 
except  by  the  abandonment  of  the  conception  of  ultimate 
reality  as  a composite,  and  the  alternative  conception  of  it 
as  a whole  which  is  also  a singular,  an  absolute  reality  whose 
unique  nature  is  manifested  in  the  particular  realities  which 
form  its  parts.  These  parts,  therefore,  need  no  external 
relation;  they  are  related  in  that  they  are  alike  expressions 
of  the  one  reality.2 

The  two  first  books  of  Hegel’s  “Logic”  and  the  greater 
part  of  the  third  and  last  book  are  occupied  with  the  portion 
of  his  argument  already  outlined;  and  Hegel’s  chief  aims 
in  this  large  part  of  the  “Logic”  are,  first,  opposition  to  the 
doctrines  which  make  metaphysics  impossible,  and,  second, 

1 “Encyclopaedia,”  § 195.  Cf.  Bradley,  “Appearance  and  Reality,”  p.  32: 
“How  the  relation  can  stand  to  the  qualities  is  . . . unintelligible.  If  it  is 
nothing  to  the  qualities,  then  they  are  not  related  at  all.  . . . But  if  it  is  to 
be  something  to  them,  then  clearly  we  now  shall  require  a new  connecting 
relation.” 

2 For  criticism  cf.  B.  Russell,  “The  Principles  of  Mathematics,”  §§  54,  99 
et  al. 


382 


Monistic  Spiritualism 


the  positive  teaching  that  ultimate  reality  is  an  absolute  One. 
But  this  conception  of  ultimate  reality  as  numerically  one 
leaves  unanswered  the  even  more  pressing  question:  what 
is  the  nature  of  this  absolute  Individual,  this  self-determin- 
ing, self-differentiating  One;  what  is  it  qualitatively,  what 
is  it  in  its  own  nature  ? Hegel’s  answer  to  this  question  forms 
the  second  great  teaching  of  his  system,  and  is  contained  in 
the  last  division  of  Book  III.  of  his  “Logic,”  on  “The  Idea.” 

III.  Ultimate  Reality  is  Spirit,  or  Person 

Already  this  question  of  the  nature  of  ultimate  reality  has 
been  partially,  though  only  partially,  answered.  It  will  be 
remembered  that  we  have  recognized  three  logically  possible 
conceptions  of  ultimate  reality : it  may  be  of  the  nature  of 
consciousness,  or  of  the  nature  of  non-consciousness;  and  if 
the  latter,  it  may  either  be  of  the  character  of  the  nature- 
world  as  we  know  it,  or  may  be  an  unknown  reality,  under- 
lying both  psychical  and  physical  phenomena.  But  the 
teaching  that  ultimate  reality  is  knowable  has  annihilated  the 
possibility  last  named ; and  the  conclusion  that  ultimate  real- 
ity is  a complete  reality  and  yet  no  composite,  or  collection  of 
externally  united  terms,  narrows  the  view  that  ultimate  reality 
is  coincident  with  the  physical  world.  For  the  world,  con- 
ceived in  terms  of  inorganic  science,  is  precisely  an  aggregate 
of  more  or  less  well-adjusted  phenomena,  a composition  of 
forces,  a sum  of  interacting  parts.  Such  an  ultimate  reality, 
obviously,  would  not  conform  to  the  conclusion  reached  that 
ultimate  reality  is  a One  manifested  in  its  parts,  not  made  up 
of  them,  a One  which  is  the  relater  of  the  terms  because  each 
of  them  is  an  essential  expression  of  it. 

It  is  thus  evident  that  the  nature-world,  conceived  as 
inorganic,  and  therefore  as  composite,  would  not  meet  the 
conditions  of  ultimate  reality  as  absolutely  one.  But  there 
still  remains  the  possibility  of  conceiving  ultimate  reality 
no  longer  as  inorganic,  but  as  organic,  no  longer  as  dead,  but 


The  System  of  Hegel 


383 


as  living.  This  is  the  theory  which  Hegel  next  analyzes  in 
a concluding  section  of  the  “Logic.”  It  is  summarized  in 
the  following  statement : — ■ 

a.  Ultimate  reality  is  not  adequately  conceived  as  mere  Life 

In  Hegel’s  time,  Schelling  had  espoused  this  life-hypothesis 
of  ultimate  reality.  In  our  own  day,  philosophically  inclined 
biologists  — Spencer,  for  example,  and  Haeckel  — have 
again  made  the  hypothesis  fashionable.  At  first  glance,  it 
has  much  to  commend  it.  It  is  superficially  possible  to 
regard  inorganic  phenomena  as  subordinate  to  organic,  — 
to  hold  that  inorganic  phenomena  exist  only  as  nourishment 
and  stimulus  to  living  beings,  — and,  on  the  other  hand,  to 
regard  consciousness  as  a mere  function  of  nerve  change, 
thus  making  of  life  the  central  and  supreme  reality.  The  or- 
ganism, moreover,  seems  to  conform  to  the  conception  of  the 
individual  (the  form,  as  has  been  shown,  of  ultimate  reality) ; 
for  the  parts  of  an  organism  exist  through  and  for  the  organ- 
ism, instead  of  being  added  together  to  make  it.  Hegel 
begins  his  discussion  1 by  admitting  this  analogy  between  the 
organism  and  the  absolute  One  manifested  in  essential  parts. 
The  living  organism,  body,  he  agrees,  is  not  an  aggregate  of 
independent  parts,  but  a One,  manifesting  itself  in  different 
members,  or  organs,  related  to  each  other  and  to  the  one 
organism.  But  there  are,  he  points  out,  at  least  two  objec- 
tions to  the  conclusion  that  ultimate  reality  is  rightly  con- 
ceived as  identical  with  organic  nature.  In  the  first  place, 
such  an  answer  is  certainly  insufficient;  it  does  not  fully 
meet  the  question:  what,  generically,  is  ultimate  reality? 
By  organic  nature,  or  fife,  we  are  by  hypothesis  to  mean 
something  more  than  the  inorganic,  the  not-living.  But  the 
distinction  between  living  and  not-living  has  never  been 
made  to  the  satisfaction  of  all  biologists.  Life,  it  is  asserted 
by  many  of  them,  is  completely  definable  in  terms  of  those 


Logik,”  Werke,  V.,  pp.  243  seq. ; “Encyclopaedia,”  § 216. 


3^4 


Monistic  Spiritualism 


processes  which  are  reducible  to  physical  and  chemical 
changes  — contraction,  oxidation,  loss  of  heat,  and  the  like, 
and  by  enumeration  of  its  chemical  constituents — its  peculiar 
proportion  of  protein,  phosphorus,  albumen,  and  so  on.  In 
other  words,  it  has  proved  impossible  — as  much,  it  must  be 
noted,  since  Hegel’s  time  as  before  — unambiguously  to 
distinguish  life  from  the  not-living.  Indeed,  modern  biolo- 
gists, Loeb,  for  example,  believe  themselves  on  the  verge  of 
the  discovery  that  life  may  result  from  inorganic  processes. 
It  seems  manifestly  impossible,  then,  to  conceive  of  the  ulti- 
mate reality  as  life,  when  we  cannot  distinguish  life  itself 
from  what  is  by  hypothesis  its  opposite. 

In  the  second  place,  Hegel  recalls  the  result  already 
reached,  that  ultimate  reality  is  all-inclusive,  utterly  com- 
plete, and  he  points  out  that  the  conception  of  ultimate  real- 
ity as  organism  does  not  meet  this  second  condition.  For 
according  to  such  a view  ultimate  reality  is  either  one  organ- 
ism among  others,  or  else  it  is  the  totality  — past,  present, 
and  future  — of  such  organisms.  The  first  of  these  hypothe- 
ses is  obviously  inconsistent  with  the  conclusion,  already 
justified,  that  ultimate  reality  is  no  single  reality,  limited 
by  the  existence  of  others.  The  second  hypothesis  implies 
the  conception  of  ultimate  reality  as  identical  with  the  race, 
or  type  — or  rather,  with  the  totality  of  interrelated  races. 
Admitting  that  the  single  organism  can  never  be  identical 
with  ultimate  reality,  this  theory  thus  holds  that  the  life 
perpetuated  through  generations  — the  life,  not  of  the  indi- 
vidual, but  of  organic  nature  conceived  as  an  organic  whole  — 
is  the  fundamental  reality.1  Hegel  proceeds,  with  his  cool  and 
penetrating  logic,  to  analyze  this  conception  of  organic  nature 
as  life  of  the  race,  which  Schelling,  in  his  ardour,  had  un- 
critically assumed  to  be  ultimate.  This  race,  or  type,  — he 
asks,  — what  is  it  ? Simply,  he  answers,  a plurality,  an 
indefinitely  prolonged  procession  of  living  beings.2  And, 

1 Werke,  V.,  pp.  252  seq.;  “ Encyclopedia,”  § 221. 

2 Werke,  V.,  p.  254. 


The  System  of  Hegel 


385 


since  it  has  been  shown  already  that  an  organic  unity  of 
related  individuals  is  not  ultimate  reality,  the  conception  of 
ultimate  reality  as  life  of  the  race  must  be  abandoned.  In  a 
word,  the  result  which  is  usual  with  Hegel  has  followed: 
the  analysis  of  the  concept  of  life,  or  organic  nature,  has 
revealed  its  own  inner  inconsistency.  In  identifying  ultimate 
reality  with  life  we  have  supposed  ourselves  to  conceive  it  as 
a One  expressing  itself  in  parts  essential  to  it : instead,  we 
have  found  that  life,  organic  nature  as  conceived  by  biological 
science,  is,  after  all,  no  absolute  one,  but  a composite  of  dis- 
tinct, and  therefore  of  externally  related,  individuals. 

b.  Ultimate  reality  is  not  adequately  conceived  as  totality  of 
particular  selves 

The  most  promising  form  of  the  hypothesis  that  ultimate 
reality  is  of  the  character  of  the  physical  world  has  thus  dis- 
closed its  weakness.  And  it,  therefore,  becomes  evident  that 
ultimate  reality,  since  it  is  proved  to  be  neither  unknown 
reality  nor  physical  nature,  must  be  consciousness.1  At  this 
point  Hegel  might  recall  the  numerical  monism  of  his  earlier 
conclusion  and  might  argue  thus : the  ultimate  reality,  since 
it  is,  on  the  one  hand,  conscious  and,  on  the  other  hand,  an 
absolute  Individual,  is  an  absolute  self.  Instead,  he  ad- 
vances on  the  conclusion  that  ultimate  reality  is  conscious- 
ness by  the  ordinary  observation  that  consciousness,  whatever 
else  it  is,  is  the  totality  of  limited  selves.2  And  herein  he  has 


1 Cf.  supra,  pp.  57  and  382,  to  show  that  these  alternative  possibilities 
are  exhaustive.  Hegel  does  not,  except  by  implication,  enumerate  these 
possibilities,  but  in  the  opinion  of  the  writer  some  such  argument  has  to  be 
supplied  in  order  completely  to  justify  him  for  stopping  where  he  does,  without 
the  effort  to  discover  whether,  in  technical  terms,  any  categories  save  those 
of  Cognition  and  Idea  might  follow  on  that  of  Life. 

2 Hegel  does  not  use  this  expression  ‘totality  of  selves,’  and  might  some- 
times seem  to  be  discussing  the  hypothesis  of  ultimate  reality,  conceived  as  a 
single,  particular  self.  The  whole  context,  however,  justifies  the  interpre- 
tation given  above,  and  McTaggart  adopts  it. 

It  is  observable  that  Hegel  does  not  take  into  account  the  Humian  concep* 


386 


Monistic  Spiritualism 


obviously  improved  on  the  hypothesis  of  ultimate  reality  as 
totality  of  organisms.  For  the  organisms,  as  mere  living, 
non-conscious  beings,  are  distinct  from  each  other,  whereas 
apparently  distinct  selves  are  yet  connected  (as  Leibniz  long 
since  pointed  out)  in  that  they  are  conscious  of  each  other. 
Possibly,  then,  in  the  fact  that  each  conscious  being  may  be 
conscious  of  the  rest  of  the  universe,  we  have  the  clue  to  our 
mystery;  perhaps,  in  other  words,  in  the  totality  of  human 
conscious  beings  (each  conscious  of  some  of  the  others,  and  even 
of  the  scheme  of  the  totality)  we  have  a qualitatively  conscious, 
numerically  absolute  One,  which  is  yet  a One  of  many.  Hegel 
tests  the  hypothesis  by  an  analysis  of  consciousness  with 
intent  to  discover  whether  indeed  the  consciousness  of  limited 
beings  can  yield  this  absolute  unity.  Consciousness,  it  will 
be  admitted,  has  two  aspects,  two  fundamental  phases, 
knowing  and  willing.  But  an  analysis  of  knowing  1 at  once 
discloses  that  neither  a single  knowing  self  nor  the  totality  of 
knowing  selves  can  constitute  the  absolute  and  all-inclusive 
reality.  For  every  knowing  self  is  confronted  with  the 
opposition  of  ‘the  immediate  world  found  ready  to  hand,’ 2 — 
a world  of  opinions  and  purposes  contrary  to  its  own  and  a 
world  of  things  which  it  has  not  made.  This  is  evident  in 
our  sense  experience,  as  Descartes  and  Berkeley  and  indeed 
all  philosophers  teach : we  are  hot  and  cold  and  blinded  by 
the  dazzling  light  and  deafened  by  loud  sounds  and  stung 
by  mosquitoes  against  our  wish  and  without  our  initiative. 
And  though  in  our  conceptual  dealings  with  the  world,  in  our 
analyses  and  classifications  of  facts,  we  are  in  a way  asserting 
our  power  over  them,  still  the  facts  are  there  to  be  classified 
and  explained  — we  do  not  create  them.  Our  elemental 
experiences,  in  a word,  come  to  us  without  our  making  them, 

tion  of  consciousness  as  impersonal  succession  of  ideas.  This  omission 
may  be  due  to  the  fact  that  the  hypothesis  had  been  so  abundantly  refuted. 

1 “Logik,”  III.,  Abschn.  3,  Kap.  2,  A,  Werke,  V.,  pp.  266  seq.,  “Die 
Idee  des  Wahren.”  Cf.  “Encyclopaedia,”  Third  Subdivision,  C,  (b),  (a), 
§ 226  seq.,  “Cognition  proper.” 

s “Encyclopaedia,”  § 224.  Cf.  Werke,  V.,  p.  265s. 


The  System  of  Hegel 


387 


often  in  opposition  to  our  desires.  Purely  knowing  selves 
cannot,  therefore,  constitute  a self-sufficient,  or  absolute, 
Individual. 

It  remains  to  consider 1 the  possibility  that  the  absolute 
reality  is  constituted  by  the  totality  of  willing  selves.  At  first 
blush,  indeed,  there  seems  a chance  that  this  is  true,  for  selves, 
when  they  will,  subordinate  all  apparently  external  reality  to 
their  own  ends,  regard  their  own  interests  as  supreme  and 
absolute,  and  “take  steps  to  make  the  world  what  it  ought  to 
be.”  2 Yet  even  will,  so  far  as  it  characterizes  particular 
selves,  demands  the  existence  of  reality  to  be  opposed,  mate- 
rials to  be  shaped  — ■ in  a word,  “presupposes  . . . the  inde- 
pendence of  the  object,”  and  is,  therefore,  limited  by  reality 
external  to  it.  As  long,  therefore,  as  we  define  ultimate  reality 
as  consisting  of  particular  selves,  we  regard  it  under  the  dis- 
credited form  of  a composite  reality.  A totality  of  limited 
selves  would,  in  fact,  be  a composite,  not  a unique,  singular 
Individual.  In  such  a composite  the  oneness  would  consist 
in  the  sum  of  the  consciousnesses  which  the  single  selves  have 
of  each  other.  But  the  consciousness  of  unity  as  possessed 
by  any  one  individual  (who  is  by  hypothesis  ultimately  dis- 
tinct from  the  others)  is  certainly  distinct  from  that  conscious- 
ness of  unity  which  each  of  the  other  individuals  feels,  and 
thus  the  supposed  absolute  unity  would  remain  rather  a sum 
of  relations  (consciousnesses  of  unity)  which  would  have  need 
of  still  further  relating. 

The  last  sections,  thus  briefly  outlined,  of  the  argument  of 
Hegel’s  “Logic”  are  marred  by  needless  digression,  by  over 
elaboration  of  details,  and  by  under  emphasis,  or  even  omis- 
sion, of  significant  steps.  None  the  less  in  its  important 
features  the  argument,  to  the  writer  of  this  book,  seems  to 
stand  out  clearly.  Absolute  reality,  Hegel  teaches,  though 
it  must  of  course  include  all  positive  characters  of  inorganic 

l“Logik,”  ibid.,  Kap.  2,  B,  Werke,  V.,  pp.  310  seq.,  “Die  Idee  des 
Guten”;  “Encyclopaedia,”  ibid.,  C.  (b)  (/3),  § 233-235,  “Volition.” 

2 “ Encyclopaedia,”  § 234,  note.  Cf.  Werke,  V.,  p.  314. 


388 


Monistic  Spiritualism 


nature,  is  yet  not  identical  with  mere  inorganic  nature,  for  it 
is  a more-than-mechanical  unity.  Nor  is  ultimate  reality 
identical  with  mere  life  as  totality  of  organisms,  for  even  here 
the  oneness  is  not  absolute,  and  each  natural  organism  has  a 
life  of  its  own.  In  the  totality  of  selves,  we  have  finally  a 
unity  of  a more  essential  sort,  that  of  consciousness  unifying 
itself  with  its  object,  yet  here  also  the  unity  is  incomplete, 
for  each  unifying  consciousness  is,  by  hypothesis,  distinct 
from  each  other.  Absolute  reality  must  indeed  be  conscious- 
ness, and  unifying  consciousness,  but  it  can  be  no  composite, 
no  system,  of  limited  and  distinct  selves.  It  must  be,  on  the 
other  hand,  ‘ subjectivity,  . . . self-moving  and  active,’ 
absolute  idea,  that  is,  self  — the  ‘absolute  and  all  truth, 
the  Idea  which  thinks  itself  and  is  completely  self-identical 
in  its  otherness.’ 2 

We  must  guard  ourselves  from  over  literally  interpreting 
the  words  of  Hegel  just  quoted.  He  is  popularly  held  to 
conceive  of  the  absolute  consciousness  as  abstract  thought  — 
thought  quite  untouched  by  emotion  or  by  will;  and  this 
conception  is  rightly  opposed,  as  doing  violence  to  salient  and 
vital  factors  of  experience.  Such  an  interpretation  is  due, 
however,  to  an  absurd  misreading  of  Hegel.  By  ‘thought,’ 
as  predicated  of  the  absolute  self,  he  never  means  thought  in 
the  dry,  exclusive  sense  of  a strict  psychology,  or  of  an  intel- 
lectualist  philosophy,  but  rather  ‘consciousness’  in  all  its 
rich  fulness.3  The  absolute  self,  differentiated,  Hegel  teaches, 

1 “ Encyclopaedia,”  § 232,  note. 

2 “Encyclopaedia,”  §§  236,  238.  Cf.  Werke,  V.,  3171. 

3 It  may  well  be  regretted  that  Hegel  uses  the  word  ‘ thought  ’ in  so  many 
distinct  senses,  yet  it  is  not  difficult  to  distinguish  them.  There  are  at  least 
three : — 

1.  By  ‘thought’  Hegel  often  means  the  mediate  or  reasoning  process  as 
contrasted  with  direct  or  immediate  apprehension.  In  this  sense  he  contrasts 
both  scientific  and  philosophic  thought  with  religion.  (Cf.  infra,  p.  392.) 

2.  By  ’thought’  Hegel  sometimes  means  the  unifying  or  relating  conscious- 
ness. In  this  sense  both  scientific  thought  (reflective  understanding)  and 
philosophic  thought  are  contrasted  with  sense  consciousness.  (Cf.  “ Logic 
of  the  Encyclopaedia,”  § 80.) 


The  System  of  Hegel 


38  9 


into  the  rich  variety  of  the  world  of  nature  and  of  limited 
spirit  is  no  lifeless  or  abstract  thought,  but  concrete  self. 
“The  highest,  extremest  summit,”  as  he  says,  “is  pure  Per- 
sonality, which  alone  — through  that  absolute  dialectic  which 
is  its  nature  — encloses  and  holds  all  within  itself.”1 

Up  to  this  point  this  chapter  has  consisted  in  an  analysis 
and  criticism  of  the  argument  by  which  Hegel  seeks  to  prove 
that  ultimate  reality  is  absolute  spirit,  or  person.  But  it 
would  be  unfair  both  to  Hegel  and  to  the  student  of  his 
philosophy  to  go  no  further.  By  far  the  greater  number  of 
the  works  which  bear  Hegel’s  name  are  characterized,  not 
by  metaphysical  argument,  but  by  genial  application  and 
illustration  of  the  underlying  principle  of  his  philosophy: 
the  spiritual  and  personal 2 nature  of  the  absolutely  real 
being.  All  save  the  first  section  of  his  earliest  work,  the 
“ Phanomenologie,”  the  entire  “Philosophy  of  Right,”  and 
the  collected  lectures  on  the  “History  of  Religion,”  the  “Phi- 
losophy of  History”  and  the  “Esthetics,”  3 embody  Hegel’s 
applications  and  illustrations  of  this  underlying  doctrine  : 
the  existence  of  an  absolute  self  which  differentiates  and 
manifests  itself  in  human  beings  and  in  physical  nature.  The 
procession  of  events,  Hegel  teaches,  is  the  progressive  appre- 
hension of  this  absolute  self  under  more  and  more  adequate 
forms;  goodness  is  the  adequate  relation  of  human  beings 
to  each  other  as  all  related  to  this  larger  self ; beauty  is  the 
absolute  self’s  expression  in  sense  forms;  religion  is  the  per- 

3.  By  ‘thought’  in  its  deepest  sense,  Hegel  means  the  consciousness  which 
any  self  has  of  the  infinite  self  as  inclusive  of  all  reality.  In  this  sense,  philo- 
sophic thought  is  opposed  to  purely  scientific  thought  and  is  allied  to  the 
highest  form  of  the  religious  consciousness. 

It  may  be  added  that  Hegel  uses  ‘sense  consciousness’  in  a narrower  and 
in  a wider  sense.  In  the  former,  the  most  frequent,  meaning  it  stands  for 
mere  sense  perception.  Occasionally,  however,  it  is  used  in  a general  way 
to  indicate  the  unphilosophic  consciousness  (perception  and  understanding). 

1 “Logik,”  Werke,  V.,  p.  339. 

2 The  justification  for  the  use  of  this  disputed  epithet  is  given  very  fully, 

pp.  380  seq.  and  382  seq.  3 Cf.  Appendix,  pp.  547. 


390 


Monistic  Spiritualism 


sonal  relation  to  the  absolute  self ; and  philosophy,  finally,  is 
the  reasoned  apprehension  of  the  Absolute.  Hegel’s  influ- 
ence, through  these  conceptions,  has  been  truly  incalculable, 
and  it  is  wholly  beyond  our  power  to  trace  it.  Doubtless  he 
has  won  adherents  to  monistic  idealism,  less  by  the  cogency 
of  his  arguments,  which  few  take  the  trouble  to  follow,  than 
by  the  adequacy  of  the  applications  of  his  doctrine  to  specific 
spheres  of  observed  reality.  Hegel  has,  in  other  words,  con- 
vinced men,  not  in  so  far  as  he  has  demonstrated  the  existence 
of  absolute  spirit,  but  in  so  far  as  he  has  shown  how  religions 
tend  to  recognize  this  absolute  spirit,  how  goodness  presup- 
poses the  relation  to  him,  how  human  history  and  physical 
science  manifest  him. 

It  is  beyond  the  purpose  of  this  book  to  outline  and  dis- 
cuss in  detail  these  applications  of  Hegel’s  fundamental 
teaching  that  ultimate  reality  is  an  absolute  self,  a spirit, 
a person,  absolutely  one,  yet  including  in  its  unity  — as 
subordinate  and  yet  essential  to  it  — all  the  varied  reality 
of  the  world  as  we  know  it.  But  whatever  the  limitations  of 
this  chapter,  brief  references  to  Hegel’s  conceptions  as  well  of 
history  as  of  religion  are  essential  to  the  proper  setting  of  his 
metaphysics.  The  essentials  of  Hegel’s  treatment  of  his- 
tory are  the  following : His  conception  is,  in  the  first  place, 
intensely  personal;  he  regards  history  rather  as  the  pro- 
gressively closer  relating  of  selves,  in  ever  widening  groups, 
than  as  development  of  one  mere  event  from  another. 
From  this  point  of  view  he  is  never  tired  of  teaching  that  the 
individual  and  the  tribal  ideal  of  duty  must  be  subordinated 
to  that  of  the  larger  social  organism.  Socrates,  strong  in 
his  conviction  of  individual  duty,  and  Antigone,  in  her 
effort  to  fulfil  the  last  rites  for  her  brother,  both  yield  in- 
evitably to  the  state  — the  most  inclusive  unit  of  social 
personality. 

Even  more  significant  is  Hegel’s  conception  of  successive 
stages  in  the  world’s  history  as  in  no  sense  isolated  from 
each  other,  but  as  vitally  related.  In  one  form  or  an- 


The  System  of  Hegel 


391 

other  this  conception  of  history  has  dominated  science  since 
the  days  of  Thucydides.  Hegel’s  interpretation,  however, 
differs  from  many  others  in  that,  in  his  view,  the  bond  which 
connects  events  is  no  external  one.  In  the  place  of  this 
conception  of  mechanical  connection  Hegel  substitutes  that 
of  development,  always  illustrating  the  relation  of  phenom- 
ena from  the  organic  relation  of  seed  to  plant.1  The  present, 
he  teaches,  has  been  developed  from  the  past,  of  which, 
potentially,  it  was  already  a part.  This  development  he  fur- 
ther conceives  as  through  the  progressive  reconciliation  of 
opposites : assertion  of  one  aspect  of  reality  grows  into  the 
expression  of  its  opposite ; and  the  two  opposites  are  later 
reconciled  in  an  inclusive  unity.2  Unquestionably,  there  is 
an  apparent  difficulty  in  this  Hegelian  doctrine  of  develop- 
ment. Given  Hegel’s  view  of  the  absolute  and  essentially 
timeless  self,  inclusive  of  all  reality,  how  can  there  be  develop- 
ment within  it  ? how,  in  truth,  does  there  come  to  be  — as 
certainly  there  is  — any  temporal  world  ? Hegel  explicitly 
recognizes  the  problem,3  and  never  attempts  to  solve  it  by 
relinquishing  either  of  its  oppositions.  He  neither  questions 
the  more-than-temporal  eternity  of  the  Absolute,  nor  yet  the 
reality  of  temporal  development.  But  he  regards  the  process 

1 “History  of  Philosophy,”  A,  2 a,  transl.,  I.,  p.  22;  Werke,  13,  p.  343, 
cited,  here  and  throughout,  in  latest  edition  (cf.  Appendix,  p.  546). 

2 These  four  stages  in  development  Hegel  indicates  by  the  characteristic 
terms  ‘the  in-itself  ( an  sich),’  that  is,  the  undeveloped,  primitive  stage;  ‘the 
for-itself  (fur  sich),’  namely  the  stage  of  self-assertion;  ‘the  for-other  ( fur 
Anderes),’  the  phase  of  recognition  of  others;  and  finally,  ‘the  in-and-for- 
itself  (an  und  fur  sich),’  the  fully  developed  stage  in  which  one’s  own  nature 
is  realized  as  constituted  by  its  relations  to  others.  (This  term  — an  und  fur 
sich  — inadequately  expresses  Hegel’s  meaning,  which  would  be  better  served 
by  the  expression  ‘for-itself-and-for-other.’)  A man,  for  example,  is  poten- 
tial, or  ‘ in  himself,’  in  his  babyhood ; he  is  ‘ for  himself  ’ in  his  domineering 
and  passionate  youth:  he  is  ‘for  others’  during  the  period  of  apprenticeship 
in  trade  or  in  profession;  and  he  is  ‘in-and-for-himself,’  completely  realized 
personality,  in  his  mature  life  when,  on  the  one  hand,  he  freely  chooses  a life 
of  service,  and,  on  the  other  hand,  recognizes  the  rights  of  others  in  the  very 
act  of  imposing  commands  upon  them. 

3Cf.  “History  of  Philosophy,”  A,  transl.,  p.  7;  Werke,  13,  p.  19. 


392 


Monistic  Spiritualism 


in  time  as  subordinately  real.  The  relative  selves  — and, 
indeed,  the  Absolute  as  manifested  in  them — are,  so  he  seems 
to  believe,  temporal  though  also  more-than-temporal ; and 
every  phenomenon  is  both  an  event  in  a temporal  series,  and 
an  aspect,  eternally  true,  of  absolute  reality.1 

From  this  indication  of  Hegel’s  doctrine  of  the  relation  of 
time  process  to  the  absolute  self,  and  of  the  consequent  con- 
nection between  history  and  philosophy,  we  turn  finally  to 
his  teaching  of  the  relation  between  philosophy  and  religion. 
In  varying  contexts  and  in  different  words,  he  repeats  that 
the  object  of  philosophy  is  the  object  of  religion  “in  that 
supreme  sense  in  which  God  and  God  only  is  the  Truth.”  2 
The  whole  course  of  Hegel’s  metaphysics  is,  indeed,  an 
argument  for  the  existence  of  God  — an  argument,  Hegel 
points  out,  which  is  in  a sense  ‘ontological,’  since  it  leads 
through  a study  of  our  conception  of  being,  to  the  realization 
that  the  Absolute  Idea  (or  Self)  necessarily  exists.  In  this 
sense,  Hegel  says,  that  “the  Notion  of  God  is  identical  with 
Being.” 3 Yet  in  spite  of  this  fundamental  identity  of 
object,  Hegel  recognizes  two  frequent  differences  between 
philosophy  and  religion  — the  first,  a contrast  in  nature  and 
genesis,  the  second,  a difference  in  object. 

From  the  first  of  these  points  of  view,  religion  is  distin- 
guished from  philosophy  in  that  its  consciousness  of  God 
may  be  — though  it  need  not  be  — immediately  gained, 
without  a struggle  or  argument.  One  may  never  have 

'“Logic”  of  the  “Encyclopaedia,”  § 212,  note,  quoted  by  McTaggart, 
“Studies  in  Hegelian  Dialectic,”  p.  1 7 1 , q.v. 

2 “Logic  ” of  the  “Encyclopaedia,”  § 1 ; “Philosophy  of  Religion,”  Intro- 
duction, paragraphs  2-3. 

3 “Philosophy  of  Religion,”  translation,  III.,  p.  355  et  al.;  Werke,  12, 
p.  542  et  al.  Cf.  “Logik,”  Werke,  III.,  Abschn.  1,  Kap.  1,  Anmerk  1,  C; 
and  “Encyclopaedia,”  Chapter  IV.,  § 51.  Hegel  often  comments  on  the 
ontological  argument  and  objects  to  Kant’s  criticism  thereof  — in  particu- 
lar to  the  ‘hundred  dollar  illustration’;  but  his  objection  is  mainly  to 
Kant’s  terminology,  and  he  is  not  blind  to  what  he  calls  the  ‘certainly 
defective  proof  (“  Philosophy  of  Religion,”  translation,  p.  357)  of  the  onto- 
logical argument  in  its  historical  form. 


The  System  of  Hegel 


393 


reasoned  about  God  and  one  may  yet  stand  to  him  in  the 
closest  of  personal  relations ; one  may  have  what  Hegel  calls 
an  ‘immediate  ’ assurance  of  oneself  as  related  to  him.  The 
philosophic  consciousness,  on  the  other  hand,  is  never  im- 
mediate. Its  endeavor  always  is  to  prove  the  nature  of 
ultimate  reality.1  Its  truth  is  gained,  “not  by  intuition  — 
not  even  by  intellectual  intuition,  but  only  by  the  labor  of 
thought.”2  From  religion  of  the  unreasoning  and  immedi- 
ately gained  variety,  philosophy  is  accordingly  sharply  dis- 
tinguished. On  the  other  hand,  as  has  been  indicated,  Hegel 
holds  that  the  highest  form  of  religious  consciousness  is  reached 
by  the  way  of  thought ; and  religion,  thus  conceived,  must 
include,  even  while  it  transcends,  philosophic  thought.3 

The  second  of  these  constant,  though  not  invariable,  dif- 
ferences between  philosophy  and  religion  concerns  the 
conception  of  God.  Philosophy  (as  conceived  by  Hegel) 
must  realize  God  as  actually  one  with  the  human  self.  Re- 
ligion, on  the  other  hand,  may  — though  it  need  not  — con- 
ceive God  as  external  to  the  human  self.  This  is  the  view 
of  God  which  dominates  the  lowest  forms  of  religion  — the 
religion  of  the  child  and  the  savage  who  picture  God  as  human 
self  and  feel  toward  him  the  primitive  human  emotions  of 
friendliness  and  of  fear ; and  it  is  also  the  conception  of  the 
merely  scientific  thinker,  who  represents  God  perhaps  as  first 
cause  and  in  any  case  as  a being  external  to  the  human  self, 
‘a  reality  beyond  him  ( ein  Jenseits)'  either  near  or  far, 
friendly  or  hostile.4 

Thus,  to  sum  up  Hegel’s  teaching : religion  as  contrasted 

1 “Logic”  of  the  “Encyclopaedia,”  § 64s.  Cf.  §§  63-75  throughout. 

2 “History  of  Philosophy,”  A,  1 a,  transl.,  p.  15 2 ; Werke,  13,  p.  27s. 

3 To  this  interpretation  it  may  be  objected  that  “Absolutes  Wissen,”  not 
“Religion,”  is  the  highest  category  of  the  philosophy  of  spirit.  In  the  opin- 
ion of  the  writer,  however,  “Absolutes  Wissen”  (the  thought  which  makes, 
as  well  as  knows,  reality,  and  which  is  therefore  will)  is  the  thought  which 
the  Absolute  thinks,  not  the  thinking  of  the  limited  selves,  as  such  ; and  re- 
ligion is,  therefore,  for  human  spirits,  the  highest  of  the  categories. 

4 “History  of  Philosophy,”  Introd.  B,  2 b,  transl.,  I.,  p.  62  ; Werke,  13, 
p.  77  2. 


394  Monistic  Spiritualism 

with  philosophy  is  personal  relation,  not  thought.  Religion 
may  be  gained  immediately  or  through  reasoning;  it  may 
or  may  not  include  thought ; its  object  may  be  falsely  con- 
ceived as  external  to  human  selves,  though  it  may  also  be 
known  as  the  including  self.  Philosophy,  on  the  other 
hand,  always  is  mediate  consciousness,  and  the  God,  or  Ab- 
solute, who  is  its  object  is  always  known  as  Absolute  Self. 
In  a word,  philosophy  is  thought  about  reality  ( denkendes 
Bewusstseyn),  whereas  religion,  whether  immediate  insight 
or  reasoned  belief,  whether  worship  of  a far-off  God  or  of 
a God  who  is  one  with  the  human  self  — religion  in  its 
lowest  as  in  its  highest  form  — is  experience,  never  mere 
thought.  Precisely,  however,  in  its  highest  phase,  religion, 
like  philosophy,  is  ‘ consciousness  of  the  absolute  being, 
Bewusstseyn  des  absoluten  Wesensl 


CONCLUSION 


CHAPTER  XI 


CONTEMPORARY  PHILOSOPHICAL  SYSTEMS  : THE 

PRESENT  ISSUE  BETWEEN  PLURALISTIC  AND 
MONISTIC  PERSONALISM 

idv  fiiv  ri  vfuv  SokQ  AXrjdes  \dyeiv,  avvoixoXoyqaaTe,  el  SI  /xr/,  iravrl  \6yti> 
dvriTelvere.  — PLATO. 

There  is  reason  for  concluding,  with  the  outline  of  Hegel’s 
philosophy,  a study  of  metaphysical  systems  as  exemplified 
in  the  works  of  modern  philosophers.  For  it  is  fair  to  say 
that,  in  the  years  since  Hegel,  no  radically  new  type  of  meta- 
physical doctrine  has  been  conceived.  Nineteenth-century 
philosophies  have  been  variations  of  the  forms  of  pluralism 
and  monism,  qualitative  and  numerical,  already  outlined ; 
and  nineteenth-century  philosophers  have  performed  the 
work  of  adaptation,  elaboration,  reconciliation,  rather  than 
that  of  origination.  In  the  opinion,  shared  by  the  writer,  of 
many  students  of  philosophy,  this  dearth  of  new  types  is  due, 
indeed,  not  to  a modern  lack  of  spontaneity,  but  to  the  fact 
that  with  Hegel’s  system  all  logically  possible  ground- 
forms  of  metaphysical  doctrine  have  been  put  forward,  so 
that  a system,  however  spontaneous  in  inception,  must  fall 
within  the  grooves  already  worn.  A summary  of  these 
nineteenth-century  systems,  and  in  particular  of  contempo- 
rary doctrines,  forms  the  concluding  chapter  of  this  book. 

A.  Contemporary  Non-idealistic  Systems 

I.  Materialism  or  Naturalism  (Qualitatively 
Monistic) 

Materialism  is,  as  has  been  indicated,  a form  of  non- 
idealism — the  conception  of  the  universe,  or  all-of-reality, 
as  independent  of  and  as  other  than  consciousness,  in  fact,  as 

397 


39S  Contemporary  Philosophical  Systems 

non-consciousness.  In  this  negative  conception  all  mate- 
rialistic systems  agree.1  In  their  positive  account  of  ma- 
terial reality,  they  differ,  however;  part  of  them  conceiving 
‘ matter  ’ in  the  terms  of  the  physicists  and  mathematicians 
as  extension  or  motion,  force  or  energy ; the  rest  regarding 
it,  in  the  fashion  of  the  biologists,  as  life,  or  organic  reality. 
The  latter,  the  biological  form  of  materialism,  appeared  first. 
It  was  the  natural  accompaniment  of  the  forward  move- 
ment, during  the  early  nineteenth  century,  in  the  sciences  of 
organic  life.  In  its  first  appearance,  modern  biological 
materialism  followed  closely  the  lines  of  the  doctrine,  out- 
lined a hundred  years  before,  by  the  French  philosopher,  La 
Mettrie,  in  his  “L’homme  machine”  which  appeared  in 
1748.2  In  the  middle  of  the  nineteenth  century,  when 
Muller  and  Schwann  were  minutely  studying  the  structure 
of  animals,  when  Ferrier  and  Munk  were  showing,  in 
widening  detail,  the  complexity,  in  developed  animal  types, 
of  the  nervous  system,  it  was  not  unnatural  that  Vogt  and 
Buchner  and  Moleschott  should  formulate  anew  the  doc- 
trine that  consciousness  reduces  to  a function  of  nervous 
matter,  that  “ the  brain  secretes  thought  as  the  liver  secrets 
bile,”  that  ultimate  reality  is,  in  a word,  nerve  activity. 
The  most  modern  statement  of  the  doctrine  is  that  of 
Ernst  Haeckel,  a biologist  of  the  first  rank,  himself  a con- 
tributor to  evolutionary  science.  His  philosophy  does  not 
differ  fundamentally  from  that  of  Buchner,  Moleschott, 
and  Vogt.  So-called  spirit  he  identifies  with  ‘ energy  as 
energy  is  related  to  mass,  so,  he  teaches,  is  spirit  related  to 
the  non-spiritual.  Every  form  of  matter,  he  therefore 
holds,  has  spiritual  functions:  mass  and  ether  alike  are 
possessed  of  psychic  activities,  and  the  very  atoms  are 
characterized  by  feeling  and  impulse;  but  these  are  uncon- 

1 In  our  day,  these  systems  discard  the  epithet  ‘materialistic,’  often  in 
favor  of  the  term  ‘naturalistic.’  The  rejection  of  the  older  terminology 
obscures  the  historical  affiliation  of  these  systems. 

2 For  book  references  throughout  this  chapter,  cf.  Appendix,  pp.  556  seq. 


Materialism  or  Naturalism 


399 


scions  functions.  Consciousness  does  not  differ,  in  kind, 
from  those  unconscious  characters;  like  other  forms  of 
energy  it  has  a definite  ‘ material  substratum  ’ ; and  this 
substratum  of  the  energy  called  consciousness  is  body  — 
psycho-plasma,  Haeckel  names  it. 

Haeckel’s  identification  of  spirit  with  energy  is  closely 
allied  with  the  second,  or  physical,  form  of  materialism, 
whose  best  known  expositor  is  Wilhelm  Ostwald.  Ostwald, 
deservedly  distinguished  in  the  field  of  physical  chemistry, 
approaches  metaphysics  from  the  side  of  physics,  conceives 
ultimate  reality  as  energy,  and  regards  heat,  as  well  as 
chemical,  electrical,  and  nerve  energy,  as  coordinate  forms 
of  the  ultimate  reality,  and  classifies  consciousness  as  a 
sub-form  of  nerve  energy.1  Professor  W.  P.  Montague, 
adopting  this  view,  suggests  the  identification  of  conscious- 
ness with  potential  energy  on  the  ground,  mainly,  that  both 
are  characterized  by  ‘invisibility  or  privacy’  and  that  “the 
conditions  under  which  a stimulus  is  followed  by  a sensation 
happen  also  to  be  conditions  under  which  energy  passes 
from  a kinetic  into  an  intensive  phase.”  2 

When,  however,  we  turn  from  exposition  to  argument  we 
find  that  contemporary  materialists  have  merely  refurbished 
the  weapons  which  were  used  by  Hobbes  and  by  Hol- 
bach.  For  the  argument  underlying  all  these  materialistic 
systems  is  the  appeal  to  the  observation  that  consciousness  is 
continuous  with  physical  change,  that  the  conscious  organ- 
ism is  connected  by  imperceptibly  progressive  stages  with 
apparently  inorganic  bodies,  and  that  sensation  follows  on 
nerve-excitation  and  nerve-excitation  on  physical  stimulus. 
But  these  considerations  avail  nothing  if  the  idealist  is  right 
in  his  contention  that  nerve  and  protoplasm  and  energy 
themselves  reduce  to  ideal  qualities  and  relations.  And 

1 “Vorlesungen  iiber  Naturphilosophie,”  p.  381.  Cf.  “Natural  Philoso- 
phy,” pp.  174,  178. 

2 “ Consciousness  a Form  of  Energy,”  in  “Essays  in  Honor  of  William 
James,”  pp.  126,  128. 


400  Contemporary  Philosophical  Systems 

modern  materialists  have  for  the  most  part  offered  no  serious 
criticism  of  this  idealistic  position.  Haeckel,  to  be  sure, 
makes  a successful,  if  rather  hysterical,  polemic  against 
dualism  of  the  spiritualistic  type,  but  he  nowhere  criticises 
idealism  as  such.  Ostwaldand  Montague  openly  play  into 
the  hands  of  idealism.  “To  gain  an  idea,”  Ostwald  says, 
“of  the  content  of  the  concept  of  energy,  we  will  start  from 
the  fact  that  we  are  able  . . . through  our  will,  to  call 
forth  occurrences  in  the  external  world.  This  comes  to 
pass  in  that,  in  consequence  of  voluntary  activity  ( Willens - 
bethatigung) , definite  muscles  contract  and  thus  excite  move- 
ments of  our  limbs,  which  . . . cause  movements  in  the 
outer  world.”  This  exertion,  he  continues,  “is  a magni- 
tude for  it  is  capable  of  being  added.”  But  “the  like 
effects  of  motion  which  are  caused  by  human  activity  may 
be  caused  by  machines  of  all  sorts  to  which  one  can  attribute 
no  exertion.  It  will,  therefore,  be  more  to  our  purpose  to 
choose  a more  general  name  for  the  magnitude  which  here 
makes  its  appearance:  the  name  ‘work.’  . . . And  we 
shall  in  general  define  energy  as  work.  . . .”  1 In  similar 
fashion,  Montague  asserts  that  “potential  energy  though 
not  visible  or  externally  perceptible  is  nevertheless  definitely 
and  directly  perceivable  internally  or  by  participation  in  it 
through  what  is  inaptly  called  the  ‘muscular  sense.’” 
The  idealist  rightly  claims  that  this  elucidation  of  the 
concept  of  energy  by  appeal  to  our  sense-consciousness  so 
far  from  showing  consciousness  to  be  a form  of  energy  really 
tends  to  reduce  energy  to  consciousness. 

II.  Monistic  Realism  (The  Doctrine  of  the  Unknown 

Reality) 

A second  form  of  non-idealism  is  a doctrine  numerically 
as  well  as  qualitatively  monistic,  which  maintains  that 

1 “ Vorlesungen,”  pp.  153,  154,  158. 

Op.  cit.,  p.  123.  Montague,  however,  vigorously  criticises  idealism. 
Cf.  p.  402,  and  bibliography. 


Monistic  Realism 


401 


neither  consciousness  nor  matter  (physical  process)  is  the 
ultimate  reality,  but  that  both  are  forms,  or  expressions,  of 
an  underlying  but  an  utterly  unknown  reality.1  This  is 
the  doctrine,  introduced  among  modem  scientists  by  Her- 
bert Spencer,  which  has  claimed  for  itself  the  name  of  ‘ mo- 
nism,’ though  it  is  obviously  one  form  only  of  the  concept  of 
reality  as  fundamentally  ‘ one  ’ ; and  it  is,  therefore,  better 
named  monistic  realism.  In  order  fairly  to  estimate  this 
doctrine,  it  must  be  held  firmly  in  mind  that,  by  its  teach- 
ing, facts  of  consciousness  and  physical  phenomena,  inor- 
ganic and  organic,  are  alike  mere  manifestations  of  a 
deeper  reality ; and  that  this  underlying  reality  is  in  itself 
unknown : it  is  known  only  in  its  expressions,  or  manifes- 
tations — that  is,  in  phenomena,  psychical  and  physical. 
Evidently,  such  a theory  differs  utterly  from  the  positive 
conception  of  the  ultimate  reality  as  itself  identical  with 
the  physical  — whether  that  be  conceived  as  ‘life’  or  as 
‘energy.’  The  historic  fact  that  materialists  have  tended 
to  this  form  of  monism  is  an  indication,  therefore,  of  the 
logical  weakness  of  materialism.2 

Against  this  theory  of  the  unknown  reality  which  is 
manifested  both  in  mind  and  in  matter  one  may  still  urge 
the  arguments  which  Hegel  put  forth  in  opposition  to 
Schelling’s  conception  of  the  Undetermined  Reality. 3 
For,  in  the  first  place,  this  hypothesized  being,  so  far  from 
being  unknown,  is  known  as  being  one  and  as  being  source 
or  ground,  and  it  thus  reveals  itself  as  belonging  to  the  do- 
main of  consciousness,  since  ‘one-ness’  and  ‘ fundamental- 
ness’ are  both  categories  or  facts  of  experience.  In  the 
second  place,  this  hypothesized  unknown  reality,  if  described 
merely  as  source  of  these  particular  phenomena,  mental  and 

1 It  will  be  remembered  that  Berkeley  used  the  term  ‘materialism’  to 
cover  this  doctrine  as  well  as  materialism  in  the  narrower  sense. 

2 Cf.  Kiilpe,  “Die  Philosophie  der  Gegenwart  in  Deutschland,”  1904,  p.  36, 
for  discussion  of  the  way  in  which  Buchner  and  Haeckel  vibrate  between 
materialism  and  monistic  realism. 

8 Cf.  pp.  339  seq. 


402  Contemporary  P hilosophical  Systems 

bodily,  really  — as  Hegel  pointed  out  — has  less,  not  more, 
reality  than  they.  To  hold  that  a and  b have  no  positive 
nature  of  their  own,  but  that  they  are  really  mere  manifes- 
tations of  x;  and  then  to  describe  x as  consisting  merely 
herein  that  it  manifests  itself  in  a and  b,  is  to  attribute  to  x 
less  reality  than  to  a and  b,  and  so  to  reduce  its  reality  to 
theirs.1 


III.  Dualism  (Neo-Realism) 

The  first  years  of  the  twentieth  century  are  marked  by  a 
lively  reaction  against  idealism.  Under  their  common 
banner,  ‘neo-realism,’  the  critics  of  idealism  uphold  divers 
doctrines  of  their  own.  The  avowed  materialism  of  one 
among  them,  Montague,  has  already  been  considered ; but 
most  of  the  neo-realists  are  dualists  and  their  common 
contention  is  that,  besides  selves  and  their  ideas,  or  expe- 
riences, there  also  exist  ‘objects,’  in  some  sense  external. 
The  main  arguments  advanced  in  support  of  this  view  take 
the  negative  form  of  criticisms  of  idealism.  Of  these,  the 
most  important  are  the  following : — 

First  (i),  the  neo-realist  insists  that  the  idealist  is  guilty 
of  a gross  assumption  in  teaching  that  because  we  are  con- 
scious only  of  the  ideal,  therefore  only  the  ideal  exists.2 
In  reply  to  this  objection,  the  idealist  urges  that  he  dis- 
covers, and  does  not  assume,  the  ideal  nature  of  all  reality. 
Step  by  step,  he  has  found  that  both  sensible  qualities  and 
fundamental  relations  are  describable  only  as  ways-of- 
being-conscious.3  Many  of  the  critics,  indeed,  yield  this 
point  but  urge  that  there  is  no  reason  for  denying  the  exist- 
ence — along  with  that  of  the  ideal,  known  objects  — of 

1 Cf.  Chapters  3,  5,  7,  10,  pp.  66  seq.;  130  seq.;  240  seq.;  366  seq.  For 
illuminating  discussion  and  estimate  of  modern  materialism  and  realism, 
cf.  James  Ward,  “Naturalism  and  Agnosticism.” 

2 Cf.  especially,  “The  Program  and  First  Platform  of  Six  Realists,” 
Journal  of  Philosophy , VII,  1910,  pp.  396,  399. 

3 Cf.  supra,  pp.  1 18  seq. 


Dualism 


403 


realities  utterly  independent  of  consciousness.  To  this  the 
idealist  replies  that,  such  realities  devoid  of  sensible 
quality,  of  permanence,  and  of  causal  relation,  would 
be  empty  nothings,  never  to  be  thought  about  or  talked 
about,  and  in  a word  utterly  negligible.1 

The  neo-realist,  however,  next  (2)  claims  that  external 
objects  must  exist  since  otherwise  no  one  would  make  the 
distinction  — which  yet,  as  a matter  of  fact,  we  all  make — 
between  perceived  things  and  imagined  things,  between  so- 
called  subjective  and  objective  realities.2  The  personalistic 
idealist  answers  that  the  distinction  between  subjective  and 
objective  reality,  image  and  percept,  is  a contrast  be- 
tween my  private  experience  and  that  which  I share 
with  other  selves.3 

In  opposition  to  this  teaching,  the  neo-realist  brings 
forward  (3)  the  subtlest  and  newest  of  his  arguments 
against  idealism.  For  up  to  this  point,  though  it  has  for 
the  most  part  escaped  his  notice,  the  neo-realist  has  merely 
repeated  the  old  arguments  with  which  Berkeley  was 
familiar.  This  present-day  argument  runs  somewhat  as 
follows : “So  far  from  defining  the  perceived,  or  ‘objective,’ 
as  the  experience  shared  with  another  self,  the  idealist  has 
no  right  to  assert  the  existence  of  any  other  self.  For  he  can 
argue  to  the  other  self’s  existence  only  by  presupposing  the 
existence  of  external  realities,  that  is,  by  observation  of 
gesture  or  articulate  sound  which  he  attributes  to  the  other 
self.  But  if,  as  the  idealist  holds,  this  movement  or  sound 
is  simply  an  idea  in  the  idealist’s  mind,  then  his  only  legiti- 
mate inference  from  it  is  — not  that  another  self  exists  but 
that  he  himself  exists.  Idealism  is,  in  other  words,  neces- 
sarily solipsistic.  In  reducing  all  reality  to  idea  the  idealist 
reduces  reality  to  his  own  idea,  and  in  denying  the  existence 


1 Cf.  supra,  pp.  13 1 seq.;  364  seq. 

2 Cf.  especially,  Fullerton,  “A  System  of  Metaphysics,”  chapters  VI., 
XXIII. ; G.  E.  Moore,  Mind,  1903,  N.S.  XII., “The  Refutation  of  Idealism.” 

3 Cf.  infra,  p.  425. 


404  Contemporary  P hilosophical  Systems 

of  external  objects  he  denies  the  existence  of  any  other  self.” 1 
To  this  objection  a pluralistic  idealist  of  Berkeley’s  type  has, 
in  the  opinion  of  the  writer  of  this  book,  no  conclusive  an- 
swer. On  the  other  hand,  the  monistic  or  Hegelian  idealist, 
believing  that  all  finite  selves  are  expressions  and  parts  of 
the  Absolute  Self,  denies  the  very  premiss  of  the  realist’s 
argument.  Not  by  inference  from  his  own  ideas  but 
in  a sense  directly  — so  he  claims  — he  knows  both  himself 
and  other  self.2  The  main  arguments  against  neo-realism 
as  a positive  theory  — or  rather,  group  of  theories  — is 
the  fact  that,  one  and  all,  neo-realists  assume  their  starting- 
point.  Thus,  the  dualists  among  them  assume  the  exist- 
ence of  ‘entities,’  physical  or  logical  or  both,  which 
they  coordinate  with  mental  realities ; and  monistic  neo- 
realists assume  the  existence  of  those  ‘neutral  entities’ 
under  which  they  subsume  selves,  or  minds  — thereby 
describing  the  immediately  known  in  terms  of  an  artificial 
construct. 

B.  Contemporary  Systems  of  Idealism 
I.  Phenomenalism  (Numerically  Pluralistic) 

Phenomenalistic  idealism  is  the  doctrine  of  Hume:  the 
conception  of  the  universe  as  a succession  of  complex  psychic 

1 Cf.  G.  E.  Moore,  Proceedings  of  the  Aristotelian  Society,  1905-1906,  VI., 
“The  Nature  and  Reality  of  Objects  of  Perception”;  H.  W.  Carr,  ibid., 
1907-1908.  2 Cf.  pp.  4102  f. ; also  pp.  138,  144  (4). 

3 The  doctrine,  common  to  many  neo-realists,  of  the  ‘externality’  of  re- 
lations — and,  in  particular,  of  the  knowledge-relation  — is  not  a necessarily 
realistic  but  rather  a numerically  pluralistic  doctrine.  It  is  virtually  held 
by  those  pluralistic  personalists  who  conceive  of  selves  as  entirely  distinct 
from  each  other. 

For  more  extended  criticism  of  neo-realism  cf.  A.  O.  Lovejoy,  “Error 
and  the  New  Realism,”  Philos.  Rev.,  1913,  XXII.,  pp.  410  Cf.,  J.  B.  Pratt, 
“Perry’s  Proofs  of  Idealism,”  Journ.  of  Philos.,  1912,  IX.,  pp.  573  S.,  M. 
W.  Calkins,  “The  Idealist  to  the  Realist,”  ibid.,  1911,  VIII.,  pp.  449  ff. 
Criticisms,  by  Muscio  and  by  Turner,  of  the  paper  last  cited  and  replies 
by  the  writer  appear  in  the  Journ.  of  Philos.,  IX.,  321  2.  and  603  2.;  XI., 
46  2.  and  297  f.  For  further  references  to  neo-realistic  writings,  cf.  the 
bibliographies,  pp.  557  and  566  infra. 


Phenomenalistic  Idealism 


405 


phenomena,  impressions  and  ideas.  To  the  phenomenalist, 
the  idea  — using  the  word,  in  Locke’s  broad  sense,  to  include 
every  fact  of  consciousness  — is  in  truth  the  unit  of  reality ; 
and  the  universe,  consisting  of  the  multitude  of  ideas,  is 
qualitatively  one,  or  homogeneous,  though  numerically  a plu- 
rality. Hume’s  phenomenalism  is  to-day  revived  most  brill- 
iantly in  the  philosophical  systems  of  a group  of  scientists : 
notably  in  those  of  Ernst  Mach,  physicist,  and  of  Karl  Pear- 
son, mathematician.1  According  to  these  thinkers,  ultimate 
reality  reduces  to  the  complex  of  sensational  experiences  — 
in  Hume’s  terms,  to  a ‘bundle  of  perceptions.’  So  Pearson 
affirms  that  “the  field  [of  science]  is  essentially  the  contents 
of  the  mind.”  2 A noteworthy  feature  of  this  doctrine  is  its 
unequivocal  idealism.  So-called  matter,  Mach  and  Pearson 
teach  as  emphatically  as  ever  Berkeley  taught,  is  a mere 
composite  of  sensational  elements,  a ‘union  of  immediate 
sense  impressions  with  associated  stored  impressions’  from 
which,  by  association,  “we  form  conceptions  and  draw  in- 
ferences.” Scientific  law  is  no  extra-mental  force,  but  — in 
Pearson’s  terms  — ‘ a brief  description  in  mental  shorthand 
. . . of  the  sequences  of  our  sense  impressions’;  ‘necessity 
in  a law  of  nature’  is  no  non-conscious  entity,  but  ‘our  ex- 
perience of  a routine.’ 3 In  a word,  the  universe  is  consti- 
tuted by  consciousness ; it  is  the  composite  of  experiences. 

The  system  thus  outlined  has  been  criticised  already  as  it 
first  appeared  in  the  Humian  form  of  it.4  Its  great  merit  lies 
in  its  determined  and  successful  opposition  to  materialism, 
its  convicing  demonstration  that  supposedly  non-conscious 
matter  is  really  nothing  more  than  a complex  of  elements  of 


1 Among  philosophical  writers,  C.  A.  Strong  (who  follows  W.  K.  Clifford) 
might  be  called  a phenomenalist  but  for  his  curious  doctrine  of  the  things-in- 
themselves.  Cf.  p.  237,  footnote. 

2 “The  Grammar  of  Science,”  second  edition,  Chapter  2,  § 17,  p.  7s2. 

3 “The  Grammar  of  Science,”  second  edition,  Chapter  2,  p.  7s2;  chap- 
ter 3,  p.  1122;  chapter  4,  §3,  p.  1201.  Cf.  Mach,  “Die  Analyse  der  Emp- 
findungen,”  4th  ed.,  p.  2832  el  al. 

4 Chapter  6,  especially  pp.  171  seq.,  179  seq. 


406  Contemporary  Philosophical  Systems 

consciousness.  Of  course,  this  is  precisely  the  position  of 
Berkeley ; but  it  has  especial  force  as  put  forward,  not  by 
avowed  metaphysicians,  but  by  natural  scientists.  This 
espousal  of  idealism  is  in  truth  a guarantee  that  keen  scien- 
tific observation,  logical  scientific  reasoning,  and  bold  scien- 
tific hypothesis  are  perfectly  reconcilable  with  an  idealistic 
outlook  on  the  universe.  The  chief  objections  to  this  con- 
temporary form  of  phenomenalism  are  precisely  the  objec- 
tions already  urged  against  Hume’s  doctrine.  It  over- 
emphasizes the  sensational  factors  of  consciousness ; 1 and  it 
is  untrue  to  experience  in  assuming  the  independent  exist- 
ence of  those  abstractions  called  percepts,  feelings  and 
thoughts.  It  ignores  the  fact  that  percept  or  feeling  is 
always  the  self  perceiving,  feeling.  Contemporary  phe- 
nomenalists  advance  no  new  arguments  against  this  teach- 
ing of  the  personal  idealists,  and  there  is  therefore  no  need 
for  a fresh  criticism  of  their  position. 

A curious  result  of  phenomenalism  is  that  its  upholders 
often  deny  the  metaphysical  nature  of  their  teaching.  Thus, 
Mach  and  Pearson  are  alike  in  their  opposition  to  metaphys- 
ics, a ‘ supposed  branch  of  human  knowledge,’  Pearson  calls 
it.  Viewed  in  this  way  as  an  ‘antimetaphysic,’  phenomenal- 
ism is  a form  of  positivism,  the  denial  of  the  validity  of  meta- 
physics. D’Alembert,  in  the  later  eighteenth  century,  and 
Auguste  Comte,  in  the  first  half  of  the  nineteenth,  were  the 
leaders  of  the  formal  movement  bearing  this  name ; but 
certain  thinkers  of  every  period  have  asserted  that  one  may 
not  know  the  Ultimate. 

II.  Personal  Idealism  (Personalism) 

Personal,  or  spiritual,  idealism  shares  with  phenomenalism 
the  doctrine  that  all  reality  is  of  the  nature  of  consciousness. 

1 Exception  must  be  made  of  Mach,  who  includes  among  ‘sensations’  rela- 
tional experiences.  But  Pearson  and  others  treat  thought  as  mere  asso- 
ciated image. 


Personal  Idealism 


40  7 


From  the  phenomenalist  the  personalist  (or  spiritualist) 
differs,  however,  in  his  account  of  what  consciousness  is. 
Consciousness,  urges  the  phenomenalist,  is  a series  or  col- 
lection of  momentary  ideas ; consciousness,  the  personal 
idealist  insists,  is  a conscious  self  or  person,  that  is,  a 
unique  ‘real’  which  is  conscious  and  which  maybe  regarded 
as  including  ideas,  but  which  is  more  permanent  than  ideas 
are,  and  independent  of  them  in  a sense  in  which  — on 
the  contrary  — they  depend  on  it.  This  issue  between 
phenomenalist  and  personalist  is,  in  the  end,  not  debatable. 
For  each  relies  and  must  rely  upon  direct  introspection.  With 
Descartes,  Berkeley,  Leibniz,  and  Kant,  Fichte,  and 
Hegel,  Lotze  and  Renouvier,  Bergson  and  Eucken,  Howison, 
Ward,  and  Royce,  and  a great  company  of  philosophers,  the 
writer  finds  that  consciousness  is  not  mere  idea  or  series  of 
ideas,  but  that  it  is  the  unique  subject  of  ideas.  To  one  who 
claims  to  find  momentary  ideas  only,  and  no  self,  in  con- 
sciousness, it  is  impossible  to  prove  the  existence  of  the  self : 1 
for  proof  means  bolstering  up  an  assertion  by  a more  fun- 
damental one,  whereas  the  self,  supposing  it  to  exist,  is 
fundamental  to  ideas.  Yet,  as  was  shown  in  the  chapter  on 
Hume’s  philosophy,  the  spiritualist  is  not  without  argument. 
Though  he  must  assert,  without  demonstrating,  the  existence 
of  a conscious  self,  he  may  prove  that  every  extant  phe- 
nomenalist, so  far  from  disproving,  has  actually  implied  the 
existence  of  the  self  to  whom  he  so  loudly  denies  a right  to 
existence.  The  great  problem  of  the  personalistic  philosophy 
is,  therefore,  the  problem  of  the  nature,  the  number,  and  the 
relation  of  conscious  selves.  With  regard  to  the  first  of  these 
problems  personal  idealists  agree  that  the  nature  of  the  self 
or  selves  which  constitute  ultimate  reality  must  be  known 
primarily  by  introspective  study.  It  is  of  course  impossible 
in  a strict  sense  to  define  this  ultimate  reality,  conscious  self, 
but  it  is  possible  to  describe  it,  to  distinguish  different  aspects 

1 Cf.  the  writers  cited  on  p.  185,  and  G.  Kafka,  “Uber  das  Ichproblem,” 
Archiv  fur  die  gesamte  Psychologie,  1910,  XIX.,  pp.  1-241. 


408  Contemporary  Philosophical  Systems 

of  it.  The  fundamental  features  of  such  a description  have 
already  been  indicated  in  the  exposition  of  various  systems 
of  philosophy.  By  self  is  meant  a relatively  persistent, 
yet  changing,  unique,  complex,  related  being.1  The  persist- 
ence of  the  self  has  already  been  considered.  Change , as 

Bergson  teaches,  is  directly  experienced  by  each  of  us  in  his 
growth  from  childhood.  Uniqueness  is  the  character  by 
virtue  of  which  the  self  is  ‘this’  or  ‘that’  and  not  any 
one  of  a group  — a reality  which  cannot  be  replaced  by 
another,  however  like  it  or  qualitatively  identical  with  it. 
That  the  self  is  a complex  of  many  diverse  experiences  is 
admitted  by  everybody.  Psychological  analysis  has  dis- 
tinguished certain  fundamental  ‘ personal  attitudes  ’ — 
assertiveness  (which  characterizes  will  and  loyalty), 
receptivity  (which  distinguishes  perception),  sympathy, 
and  attention  (both  egoistic  and  altruistic)  — and  has  also 
enumerated  the  so-called  ‘elemental’  kinds  of  conscious- 
ness, notably  the  sensations  and  the  affections.  The  self, 
finally,  must  be  regarded  not  only  as  related  to  any  reality 
in  any  sense  beyond  it  but  also  as  the  relater,  or  unifier, 
of  the  different  parts  or  aspects  of  itself 2 ! 

1 A comparison  of  this  concept  of  the  self  with  the  traditional  notion  of 
‘spiritual  substance’  will  disclose,  on  the  one  hand,  a likeness  between  the 
two.  Both  teach  the  existence  of  a reality  more  permanent  than  ideas  or 
‘mental  operations,’  and  fundamental  to  them.  As  actually  used,  by 
Berkeley,  for  example,  the  concept  of  ‘soul’  or  ‘spirit’  seems  often  to  be 
almost  identical  with  that  of  ‘self.’  On  the  other  hand,  the  soul  — or 
spiritual  substance  — is  sometimes,  as  by  Locke,  emptied  of  all  content,  and 
sometimes  conceived  in  the  fashion  of  what  might  be  called  materialistic 
immaterialism.  Against  this  bizarre  conception  of  the  soul,  not  against  that 
of  the  conscious  self,  the  arguments  of  Kant’s  Paralogisms  prevail. 

2 This  is  not  the  place  to  argue  for  the  exact  nature  and  number  of  these 
attitudes  and  elements.  Such  a task  belongs  to  the  psychologist,  and  the 
reader  is  referred  to  the  writer’s  “A  First  Book  in  Psychology,”  third  edi- 
tion, 1914,  chap.  I.,  pp.  3-5  and  Appendix,  Sect.  III.,  § 34,  pp.  330-331, 
333-334,  for  justification  of  the  outline  here  offered.  A different  yet  closely 
allied  account  of  the  self  may  be  found  in  A.  Pfander’s  “Einfiihrung  in 
die  Psychologie,”  Leipzig,  1904,  II.  Teil,  Kap.  II  and  III.  It  should,  how- 
ever, be  insisted  that  this  analysis,  though  primarily  the  concern  of  the 
psychologist,  is  not  on  that  account  outside  the  domain  of  philosophy. 


Personal  Idealism 


409 


A word  more  is  necessary  with  reference  to  the  immediate- 
ness  of  our  consciousness  of  self,  thus  described.  Stress  has 
been  laid  throughout  this  book  on  the  fact  that  the  immediate- 
ness of  self-consciousnessis  the  starting-point  of  all  philosophy, 
the  guarantee  of  all  truth.1  I cannot  doubt,  I know  imme- 
diately, that  I,  a conscious  self,  or  person,  exist ; and  I must 
believe  whatever  is  involved  in  this  certainty  of  my  own  exist- 
ence. To  this  the  objection  is  bound  to  be  made  that  such 
a consciousness  of  self,  as  has  here  been  described,  demands 
a high  stage  of  development,  and  that  it  cannot  therefore 
claim  for  itself  the  character  of  immediateness.  Such  an 
objection  overlooks  the  meaning  of  ‘immediate,’  which  is 
‘unreasoned,  and  consequently  not  demanding  proof’;  it 
overlooks  also  the  fact  that  a consciousness  of  oneself  as 
feeling  or  relating,  active  or  passive,  domineering  or  yield- 
ing, is  far  from  implying  the  capacity  to  distinguish  and 
state  these  characters.  One  may  be  chaotically,  confusedly, 
dimly,  conscious  of  oneself  as  unique,  inclusive,  and  as 
sensationally,  affectively,  and  relationally  conscious,  but  — - 
the  personalist  will  insist  - — consciousness  would  not  be  con- 
sciousness if  it  were  less  than  this. 

Another  common  objection  to  this  doctrine  that  the  self 
is  the  immediate  datum  of  consciousness  is  based  upon  the 
discovery  of  so-called  alternating  personalities  and  disso- 
ciated selves.  How,  it  is  urged,  can  one  conceive  Janet’s 
patient,  the  peasant  Leonie,  as  a single,  unique  self  when  the 
supposed  Leonie  has  so  plainly  been  shown  to  be  a composite 
of  different  selves,  not  merely  a dull  paysanne,  but  also  a viva- 
cious Leonie,  and  a serious  Leonie  — these  two  revealed  in 
different  stages  of  the  hypnotic  trance  and  only  imperfectly 
acquainted  with  each  other.2  And  how,  once  more,  can  one 

For  not  only  is  it  true  that  philosophy  must  have  to  do  with  all  facts  of 
all  sciences,  but  it  is  certain  that  a personalist  philosophy  must  adopt  as  its 
unit  that  I or  self  which,  to  the  psychologist,  is  the  unit  of  what  he  rightly 
regards  as  his  slice,  merely,  of  a wider  reality. 

1 Cf.  Sturt,  “Idola  Theatri,”  p.  92. 

2 Pierre  Janet,  “ L’automatisme  psychologique,”  pp.  132  et  al. 


410  Contemporary  Philosophical  Systems 

attribute  the  immediate  consciousness  of  self  to  Dr.  Prince’s 
Miss  Beauchamp  with  her  four  to  six  personalities,1  or  to 
Flournoy’s  Helene  Smith  suddenly  stripped  (it  seems)  of 
her  own  identity  and  apparently  reinstating  Cagliostro  or 
Marie  Antoinette  ? 2 This  objection  confuses  the  bare,  ever- 
present centre  of  self-consciousness  with  the  varying  cir- 
cumference and  content.  The  alternations  and  dissociations 
are,  in  truth,  the  extreme  instances  of  the  variations  of  mood 
and  interest,  the  temporary  changes  due  to  forgetfulness  or 
to  novel  associations,  which  characterize  every  self,  however 
normal.  Through  all  these  variations  the  consciousness  of 
self  persists.  One  does  not  lose  it  when  one  no  longer  re- 
members last  summer’s  happenings  or  when  one’s  customary 
serenity  gives  way  to  restlessness.  In  similar  fashion,  the 
second  or  ‘split-off’  personality  retains  a consciousness, 
however  abnormally  altered  in  specific  content,  of  himself. 
Indeed  the  frequently  recorded  lament  of  the  ‘second  per- 
sonality,’ “I  have  lost  my  old  self,”  would  be  impossible 
were  not  the  old  self  really  there  to  mourn  the  change.3 

Besides  agreeing  in  a general  way  on  some  such  account  of 
the  nature  of  a self,  all  personal  idealists  known  to  the  writer 
hold  that  there  are,  in  some  sense,  many  selves  bound  or  re- 
lated to  each  other.  The  grounds  for  this  belief  that  I,  the 
narrow  myself,  am  not  all-of-reality  must  be  stated  here.4 
In  truth,  they  have  repeatedly  come  to  light.  Psychologi- 
cal introspection  reveals  that,  in  being  conscious  of  myself, 
I am  directly  conscious  of  myself  as  limited ; and  to  be 
conscious  of  myself  as  limited  is  to  be  conscious  of  that 
which  limits  me  as  being,  in  a certain  sense,  beyond  my- 
self. But  all  philosophic  thinking,  the  personal  idealist 
believes,  must  culminate  in  the  conclusion  that  only  self  is 
real.  I rightly  reason,  therefore,  that  in  being  directly 

1 “The  Dissociation  of  a Personality,”  1905. 

2 “Des  Indes  a la  planete  Mar,”  Geneva,  3d  ed.,  1910. 

8 Cf.  K. Oesterreich,  “ Die Phanomenologie des Ich,”  Leipzig,  1910, pp.  343 fi. 

4 Cf.  B.  Varisco,  “The  Great  Problems,”  transl.  R.C.  Lodge,  pp.  16  f.,  292  f. 


Personal  Idealism 


411 


conscious  of  other-than-myself  I am  conscious  of  other  self, 
or  selves.  Thus,  my  consciousness  of  friend,  of  master, 
or  of  God,  is  in  its  centre  a direct  consciousness.  The  rich 
details,  indeed,  which  make  up  what  I know  as  another 
conscious  self,  and  the  concrete  lines  of  division  between  other 
selves  — these  are  in  great  part  the  results  of  reflecting,  com- 
paring, reasoning,  and  interpreting ; but  of  some  reality  other 
than  my  narrow  self  I am  directly  conscious;  and  I am 
justified  in  concluding  that  this  other  reality  is  self  or  selves. 

So  far,  then,  all  personal  idealists  in  the  main  agree.  The 
question  which  divides  them,  the  most  hotly  contested  of  the 
modem  philosophical  issues,  concerns  the  ultimate  distinct- 
ness of  the  selves.  No  one  disputes,  as  has  appeared,  the 
reality,  in  some  highly  significant  sense,  of  partial  and  limited 
selves  (you  and  I and  all  the  rest),  related  one  with  another. 
The  question  is : do  these  selves  constitute  the  fundamental, 
the  ultimate  reality,  the  ne  plus  ultra  of  being  ? At  this  point 
the  spiritualistic  systems  of  pluralism  and  of  monism  sharply 
divide.  The  first  teaches  that  the  universe  consists,  in  its 
ultimate  nature,  of  a community  of  related  selves.  The 
second  is  the  theory  that  ultimate  reality  is  in  its  innermost 
nature  a single  individual  or  person,  which  differentiates 
itself  into  the  manifold  personalities  and  objects  of  the  world 
as  empirically  observed.  The  contrast  is  that,  already 
studied,  between  the  doctrine  of  Leibniz,  of  Berkeley,  and  of 
Fichte,  and  the  theory  first  unequivocally  formulated  by 
Hegel,  later  supported  by  Lotze  (unaware  of  his  essential 
agreement  with  Hegel),  and  finally  upheld  by  the  neo- 
Hegelians  in  England  and  in  America  — - among  others, 
by  T.  H.  Green,  Edward  Caird,  Bernard  Bosanquet,  and 
Josiah  Royce. 

a.  Pluralistic  Personal  Idealism  ( Personalism ) 

There  is  no  more  vigorous  tendency  in  modem  philosophy 
than  the  upspringing  in  the  most  distinct  quarters  of  the  aca- 


412  Contemporary  Philosophical  Systems 

demic  world  of  a pluralistic  doctrine.  As  commanding  figures 
among  the  pluralists  stand  William  James,  George  Howison, 
J ohn  Dewey,  Henri  Bergson,  Charles  Renouvier , J ames  W ard. 
More  or  less  closely  organized  groups  of  pluralistic  thinkers 
are  found  at  Oxford  and  in  the  University  of  Chicago.  To 
the  former  group  belong  F.  C.  S.  Schiller,  a disciple  of  James, 
Henry  Sturt,  Hastings  Rashdall,  and  others;  the  Chicago 
pluralists,  Addison  Moore,  S.  F.  MacLennan,  and  the  rest, 
are  former  colleagues  and  pupils  of  Dewey.  Distinct  from 
all  these  is  McTaggart,  who  founds  his  pluralism  on  his  in- 
terpretation — a misinterpretation,  it  appears  to  the  writer  of 
this  book  — of  Hegel.1  Most,  though  not  all, of  these  writers2 
combine  with  their  pluralism  a protest  against  rationalism 
in  metaphysics,  and  this  protest,  under  the  name  of  prag- 
matism, looms  large  in  the  philosophical  discussion  of  the 
day.  This  ‘pragmatism’  takes  the  forms  mainly  of  (x)  a 
constant  appeal  to  direct  experience;  (2)  a reinstatement  of 
emotional  and  volitional,  alongside  intellectual,  factors  in 
consciousness;  and  (3)  an  insistence  on  the  practical,  that 
is,  the  more-than-intellectual  significance  of  truth.  These 
teachings  are  supposed  by  those  who  lay  stress  upon  them 
to  be  incompatible  with  monistic  personal  idealism,  and  they 
are,  therefore,  brought  forward  as  an  argument  for  pluralistic 
personalism.  The  writer  of  this  book  believes,  on  the  con- 
trary, that  these  teachings  of  the  ‘ pragmatists’  are  well  founded 
and  salutary  truths,  but  that  they  are  as  compatible  with 
monistic  as  with  pluralistic  doctrine.  Accordingly,  the 
pragmatist  teachings  of  the  pluralists,  important  as  they  are 
in  themselves,  will  not  be  considered  in  the  discussion,  which 
follows,  of  the  issue  between  pluralistic  and  monistic  personal 
idealism.3 

Pluralistic  personalism  is  the  doctrine  that  ultimate  reality 

1 Cf.  Chapter  10,  pp.  378  seq. 

2 McTaggart  and  Howison  and  Ladd  are  important  exceptions. 

3 Cf.  Appendix,  p.  559,  for  an  outline  and  criticism  of  pragmatist  doctrine 
and  its  bearings. 


Pluralistic  Personal  Idealism  413 

consists  in  the  community,  or  society,  of  all  related  selves 
or  spirits.  It  is  based  on  two  considerations : the  conviction 
that  the  experience  of  every  I is  unsharable,  and  the 
firmly  held  conception  that  any  I’s  self-consciousness  in- 
volves the  recognition  of  distinct,  other  selves.  “The  very 
quality  of  personality,”  Howison  says,  “is  that  a person  is 
a being  who  recognizes  others  as  having  a reality  as  unques- 
tionable as  his  own.”  1 From  this  conception  it  must  follow, 
the  pluralists  argue,  that  the  monistic  doctrine  of  the  partial, 
or  limited,  selves,  as  expressions  of  the  absolute  self  and  in- 
cluded in  its  ultimate  reality,  does  violence  to  the  very  essence 
of  selfhood,  or  personality.  Neither  the  alleged  absolute  self 
nor  the  partial  selves,  could,  they  say,  on  this  view,  be  selves 
at  all ; the  personality  of  absolute  and  of  partial  selves  alike 
would  vanish,  since  personality  consists  in  relations  to  other 
persons  or  selves. 

Positively,  the  pluralists  teach,  this  analysis  of  one’s  own 
individual  self,  this  discovery  that  it  includes,  as  essential  part 
of  itself,  its  relations  to  others,  is  the  guarantee  of  the  ulti- 
mately real  existence  of  the  other  selves  in  relation  with  each 
other  and  with  oneself.  This  argument  is  of  great  impor- 
tance, for  upon  it  rests  the  case  of  the  pluralists.  It  demands, 
therefore,  the  most  careful  comment.  The  comment  will, 
however,  be  postponed  till  the  argument  itself  is  restated  in 
more  detailed  opposition  to  monistic  doctrine.  For  the  pres- 
ent, granting  temporarily  the  basal  conception,  it  is  necessary 
to  notice  the  two  forms,  theistic  and  antitheistic,  of  pluralistic 
personal  idealism.  Of  these,  the  first  affirms,  and  the  second 
denies  or  questions  or  ignores,  the  existence  of  a supreme 
self,  spirit,  or  person,  in  close  relation  with  the  finite  selves. 

The  arguments  for  God’s  existence,  put  forward  by  con- 
temporary theistic  pluralists,  reduce  to  three  main  types: 
first,  a group  of  arguments  from  the  nature  of  the  physical 
universe ; second,  the  argument  from  the  imperfection  of  the 


1 “Limits  of  Evolution,”  edition  of  1901,  p.  f (cf.  pp.  49,  52). 


4 H Contemporary  Philosophical  Systems 

human  self ; third,  the  argument  from  the  nature  of  a system. 
The  arguments  of  the  first  type  need  not  here  be  considered, 
since  they  are  really  restatements  of  older  arguments  already 
discussed.  They  argue  God’s  existence  (i)  from  the  inevi- 
tableness of  our  sense  experience ; 1 (2)  from  the  fact  that  the 
physical  universe  existed  ages  before  human  consciousness 
appeared ; 2 and  finally  (3)  from  the  purposiveness  of  the 
nature-world.3  Of  these  arguments,  however,  as  has  already 
appeared,4  the  first  two  are  capable  of  proving  no  more  than 
the  existence  of  an  other-than-human  spirit;  and  the  last 
shows  at  best  a probability  in  favor  of  God’s  existence.5 

The  next  argument  of  the  theistic  pluralists  is  certainly  of 
far  greater  importance,  for  it  reasons  to  the  existence  of  God 
from  an  essential  character  of  each  partial  self.  Because  of 
the  imperfection  of  the  human  self  it  argues  that  God,  the 
perfect  self,  must  exist.  Of  contemporary  thinkers  none 
has  elaborated  this  argument  with  greater  subtlety  than 
Professor  Howison.  The  self-dependence  of  the  individual, 
he  argues,  is  his  recognition  of  his  own  peculiarity,  and  this 
involves  his  recognition  of  other  selves.  “The  spirit,”  he 
says,  “is  intrinsically  individual,  it  is  itselj  and  not  any  other. 
But  such  a getting  to  exact  identity  can  only  be  by  means  of 
difference;  and  difference  again  implies  contrast  and  so 
reference  to  others.  Thus,  in  thinking  itself  as  eternally  real, 
each  spirit  inherently  thinks  the  reality  of  all  other  spirits.” 
And  this  recognition  of  others,  Howison  asserts,  implies  the 
real  existence  of  these  others.  “This  universal  self-defin- 
ing,” he  continues,  “implies  and  proclaims  the  universal 
reality,  the  living  presence  in  all  . . . the  self-conscious 
intelligence,  and  this,  presented  in  all  really  possible  forms 

1 Cf.  Howison,  op.  cit.,  p.  49. 

3  Cf.  Rashdall,  in  “Personal  Idealism,”  VIII.,  § 9,  p.  376s. 

3 Cf.  Schiller,  “Riddles  of  the  Sphinx,”  pp.  37 12,  3701  et  at. 

4 Cf.  especially  on  Berkeley’s  causal  argument  for  God’s  existence,  Chap- 
ter s,  pp.  141  seq. 

5 Cf.  especially  Chapter  5,  pp.  134  seq.,  141  seq.;  and  (on  Kant’s  discus- 
sion of  the  physico-thcological  argument)  Chapter  7,  pp.  250  seq. 


Pluralistic  Personal  Idealism  415 

or  instances  oj  its  one  abiding  nature .”  The  forms  of  self- 
conscious  intelligence  thus  implied  — that  is,  the  kinds  of 
other  self  which  the  individual  spirit  contrasts  with  itself  — 
are  two:  God  and  finite  selves,  or  minds.  “The  world  of 
minds,”  Howison  says,  “must  embrace  first  the  Supreme 
Instance  in  which  the  self-definer  defines  himself  from  every 
other  by  the  peculiarity  of  perfect  self-fulfilment  in  eternity, 
so  that  all  ideal  possibilities,  all  rational  perfections,  are  in 
him  eternally  actualized,  and  there  is  an  absolutely  perfect 
mind,  or  God,  whose  very  perfection  lies  in  his  giving  com- 
plete recognition  to  all  other  spirits  as  the  complement  in 
terms  of  which  alone  his  own  self-definition  is  to  himself 
completely  thinkable.  But  secondly,  the  world  of  minds 
must  embrace  this  complemental  world,  and  every  member  of 
this  complement,  though  indeed  defining  himself  against  each 
one  of  his  fellows,  must  define  himself  primarily  against  the 
Supreme  Instance,  and  so  in  terms  of  God.  Thus  each  of 
them  in  the  act  of  defining  his  own  reality  defines  and  posits 
God  as  real  — ■ as  the  one  Unchangeable  Ideal  who  is  the 
indispensable  standard  upon  which  the  reality  of  each  is 
measured.  The  price  at  which  alone  his  reality  as  self- 
defining can  be  had  is  the  self-defining  reality  of  God.  If 
he  is  real,  then  God  is  real ; if  God  is  not  real,  then  neither 
can  he  be  real.”  1 

But  it  is  not  possible  to  admit  this  conclusion.  For  though 
God,  the  perfect  self,  is,  in  truth,  as  he  contends,  conceived 
in  any  imperfect  self’s  adequate  definition  of  himself,  yet  the 
fact  that  each  self  thus  defines  “himself  primarily  against 
the  Supreme  Instance,”  cannot  prove  that  this  Supreme 
Instance  has  existence  other  than  that  of  a necessary  human 
ideal  — in  Kant’s  terms  a ‘transcendental  Idea.’  Howison ’s 
argument  is,  in  other  words,  in  its  essentials,  precisely  the 
old  ontological  argument  of  Anselm,  Descartes,  and  Leibniz.2 
As  Descartes,  for  example,  confused  the  ‘idea  of  existence’ 

1 Op.  tit.,  pp.  3 5 23-35  3,  355.  Cf.  Rashdall,  op.  tit.,  §§  9 and  15. 

3 Cf.  Howison’s  admission  (pp.  35 62  and  3591)  of  the  epithet  ‘ontological.’ 


41 6 Contemporary  Philosophical  Systems 

with  ‘existence,’  so  Howison  confuses  the  ‘posited  real’  or 
the  ‘defined  as  real’  with  the  ‘real.’  To  this  criticism  of 
Howison  the  following  rejoinder  will  perhaps  be  made: 
such  an  argument  tells  equally  against  the  argument,  insisted 
on  by  the  writer  of  this  book,  that  in  being  conscious  of  one- 
self one  is  always  conscious  of  other  selves.  In  reply  it  should 
be  pointed  out  that  what  has  been  taught  is  the  immediate 
consciousness,  not  of  other-self,  but  of  other-than-self.1  Not 
immediately,  but  through  reasoning  on  the  nature  of  reality, 
does  one  reach  the  philosophical  certainty  that  the  other- 
than-self  is  other  self  or  selves.  Such  an  immediate  certainty 
of  the  other-than-self  is  far  from  being  the  certainty  of  the 
existence  of  any  particular  self  — least  of  all  the  certainty  of 
a supreme  and  perfect  self. 

There  remains  a significant  argument  suggested  by  at 
least  one  of  the  pluralistic  personal  idealists.  It  is  developed 
in  criticism  of  the  non-theistic  pluralist  doctrine.  All  plu- 
ralistic personalism,  as  has  appeared,  conceives  the  universe 
as  complete  and  interrelated  totality  of  selves.  The  non- 
theistic  pluralism,  however,  regards  these  selves  as  co- 
ordinate, and  fails  to  admit  the  existence  among  them  of 
a supreme  self,  God.  In  opposition  to  this  omission  of  God 
from  the  totality  of  selves,  a theistic  pluralist,  Dr.  Rash- 
dall,  calls  attention  to  the  fact  that  on  the  basis  of  ideal- 
ism, an  interrelated  system  can  exist  only  as  the  object  of  a 
self’s  consciousness,  and  then  urges  that  only  a supra- 
human  mind  can  conceive  the  totality  of  human  selves. 
Dr.  Rashdall  explicitly  adopts  this  position  in  his  criticism 
of  McTaggart’s  form  of  pluralism.2  “Mr.  McTaggart,”  he 
says,  “feels  that  the  world  must  be  a Unity,  that  it  con- 
sists, not  merely  of  souls,  but  of  related  and  interconnected 
souls  which  form  a system.  But  a system  for  whom  ? The 
idea  of  a system  which  is  not  ‘for’  any  mind  at  all  is  not  open 
to  an  Idealist ; and  the  idea  of  a world  each  part  of  which  is 


1 Cf.  supra,  p.  409. 


2 Op.  cit.,  p.  393,  note. 


Pluralistic  Personal  Idealism  417 

known  to  some  mind,  but  is  not  known  as  a whole  to  any  one 
mind,  is  almost  equally  difficult.  Where  then,  in  his  view, 
is  the  Mind  that  knows  the  whole,  i.e.  the  whole  system  of 
souls  with  the  content  of  each?  The  difficulty  could  only 
be  met  by  making  out  that  each  soul  is  omniscient,  and  per- 
haps this  is  really  Mr.  McTaggart’s  meaning.  If  so,  the 
difficulty  of  making  each  soul  as  an  extra -temporal  reality 
omniscient,  while  as  occupying  a position  in  the  time-series 
it  is  all  the  time  ignorant  of  much,  is  one  which  needs  no 
pointing  out.  In  short,  I hold  that  the  ordinary  idealistical 
arguments  for  a Mind  which  knows  and  wills  the  whole  are 
not  invalidated  by  Mr.  Me  Taggart’s  criticism.” 

The  difficulty  with  this  argument  is  in  its  denial  of  the 
partial  self’s  knowing  the  totality  of  selves.  For  — it  might 
be  urged  by  the  non-theistic  pluralist  — though  the  partial 
self  does  not  know  in  detail  each  of  all  the  selves,  yet  it 
does  know  the  existence  and  the  principle  of  the  totality 
of  all  the  selves,  and  accordingly  there  is  no  necessity 
of  a mind  other-than-partial  to  know  the  whole.  We  need 
not,  however,  discuss  this  argument  in  detail,  for  there  is  at 
least  a grave  doubt  whether  a pluralistic  theist  has  a right 
to  it  at  all.  On  the  contrary,  it  might  be  insisted  that  the 
only  self  capable  of  being  conscious  of  the  totality  of  finite 
selves  would  be  a self  inclusive  of  them.  This  objection 
introduces  the  monistic  form  of  personal  idealism ; and  to 
the  discussion  of  it,  it  is  now  the  time  to  turn. 

b.  Monistic  Personal  Idealism 

The  remainder  of  this  chapter  is  devoted,  for  the  most  part, 
to  a study  of  the  doctrine  of  monistic  personal  idealism.  Such 
a study,  as  will  appear,  involves  a careful  estimate  of  the 
arguments  in  favor  of  the  opposing  theory  of  pluralistic  per- 
sonalism. For  the  two  theories  have  developed  in  close  and 
parallel  contrast  to  each  other.  As  has  been  repeatedly  indi- 
cated, the  two  systems  are  fundamentally  alike.  Both  are, 


418  C 071  temporary  Philosophical  Sy steins 

indeed,  forms  of  qualitatively  monistic,  personal  idealism; 
that  is,  both  regard  the  universe  as  immaterial,  conscious, 
and  personal  in  its  ultimate  nature.  But  whereas  the  plural- 
istic systems  find  ultimate  reality  in  the  many  individual 
selves,  monistic  personalism  conceives  it  as  consisting  in  one 
underlying,  all-inclusive  Self,  manifested  or  expressed  in  all 
the  many  selves.  In  Royce’s  words,  “there  is  but  one  abso- 
lutely final  and  integrated  Self,  that  of  the  Absolute.”  1 
The  discussion  of  this  monistic  hypothesis  will  include  the 
consideration,  first,  of  the  arguments  in  its  favor;  second,  of 
the  objections  urged  against  it  by  the  pluralists;  and,  finally, 
of  the  answers  given  to  the  pluralistic  difficulties  by  the 
specific  applications  of  the  doctrine. 

The  argument  for  this  monistic,  or  absolutist,  form  of  per- 
sonal idealism  has  been  often  formulated  in  the  preceding 
chapters,2  yet  it  must  once  more  be  brought  forward.  It 
may  be  briefly  stated  in  the  following  propositions,  which 
closely  repeat  the  conclusions  of  the  Hegel  chapter.  The 
argument  will  start  from  the  position,  already  — in  the 
writer’s  opinion  — established,  shared  by  monistic  with 
pluralistic  personalism,  the  doctrine  that  the  universe  is 
ultimately  consciousness,  and  that  consciousness  means 
selves  or  Self.  Monistic  personalism  has  only,  then,  to 
show  reason  for  its  divergence  from  pluralistic  personalism 
in  the  teaching  that  ultimate  reality  is  no  system,  com- 
munity, or  kingdom  of  selves,  but  a Self. 

I.  Ultimate  reality  is  no  absolute  plurality;  it  does  not 
consist  in  a plurality  of  utterly  disconnected  units.  For  we 
directly  experience  relations  and  connections;  every  one  of 
the  supposably  discrete,  distinct  ‘units’  is  both  comparable 
with  and  dependent  on  other  units : it  implies  others  in  being 
itself  distinct,  and  it  is  connected  with  others  by  virtue  of 
their  all  existing. 

Stress  should  be  laid,  in  the  foregoing  statement,  on  the 
assertion  that  the  relations  whose  reality  is  asserted  are  directly 

1 “The  World  and  the  Individual,”  II.,  p.  289. 

2 Cf.  supra,  pp.  323,  377  seq. 


Monistic  Personal  Idealism  419 

experienced,  not  inferred.  Monistic  doctrine,  in  its  most 
justifiable  form,  starts  out,  in  other  words,  precisely  from 
the  radical  empiricism  which,  in  the  hands  of  the  pluralists, 
is  moulded  to  such  different  ends. 

II.  But  ultimate  reality  is,  furthermore,  no  mere  manifold 
of  units  which  are  both  distinct  and  yet  related.  For  abso- 
lute distinctness  and  relatedness  are  mutually  exclusive 
predicates.  If  the  units  remain  entirely  distinct,  they  are 
then  distinct  from  the  relations  as  well  as  from  each  other; 
in  other  words,  the  relations  themselves  become  mere  unre- 
lated units.  So  long  as  the  units  are,  by  hypothesis,  dis- 
tinct, so  long  the  supposed  relations  fail  to  relate.  But 
relation  is  experienced,  it  is  immediately  known  to  exist. 
Hence  the  alternative,  entire  distinctness,  must  be  aban- 
doned. There  results  the  conception  of  ultimate  reality,  not 
as  mere  including  system,  but  as  relater  of  its  parts,  not  as 
mere  one-of-many,  but  as  unique  Individual.  And  if  it  be 
objected  that  this  conclusion,  reached  as  it  is  by  logical  analy- 
sis and  elimination,  lacks  the  confirmation  of  concrete  ex- 
perience, it  may  at  once  be  replied  that  each  one  of  us  has  in 
his  consciousness  of  self  the  example  of  a unique  being  which 
is  a one-of-many.  For  every  self  is  directly  known  both 
as  particular,  single  individual  (as  this  one  self),  and  as  one- 
of-many  — as  the  includer  of  perceiving,  thinking,  and  feel- 
ing experiences,  and  yet  as  diversified  in  its  constantly  varying 
experiences.  In  a word,  every  self  is  immediately  known  to 
be  a unique,  differentiated  one. 

III.  The  conclusion  that  ultimate  reality  is  an  Absolute, 
not  a mere  related  plurality,  combined  with  the  conclusion, 
already  argued,  of  all  personal  idealism,  pluralistic  as  well 
as  monistic,  that  the  irreducible  nature  of  the  universe  is 
self,  gives — as  the  final  outcome  of  philosophy — the  con- 
ception of  ultimate  reality  as  absolute  self.  The  monistic 
personalist  contends  that,  underlying  and  including  all  the 
many  selves,  there  is  one  absolute  self  which,  by  its  one- 
ness, constitutes  their  relatedness;  and  that  these  lesser 


420  Contemporary  Philosophical  Systems 


selves  — accordingly  — are  only  relatively,  or  partially, 
distinct.1 

It  is  to  be  noted  that  this  doctrine  is,  from  many  points 
of  view,  pluralistic  as  well  as  monistic.  For,  first,  like 
all  forms  of  idealism,  the  doctrine  of  the  absolute  self  is 
qualitatively  monistic  only  in  the  technical  sense  of  viewing 
all  reality  as  of-the-nature-of-consciousness,  whereas,  in  so 
far  as  consciousness  is  itself  complex,  the  conception  of  the 
absolute  self  may  be  termed  qualitatively  pluralistic.  And, 
second,  when  unity  and  plurality  are  themselves  regarded 
as  qualities,  plurality  as  well  as  unity  must  be  attributed 
to  the  absolute  self  as  one-of-many.  The  important 
reason  for  describing  the  conception  of  the  absolute  self 
as  monistic  is  the  following:  that  it  asserts  the  unique 
selfhood  along  with  the  all-inclusiveness,  of  the  Absolute. 

1 The  second  part  of  the  argument  here  outlined  is  based  on  Bradley’s 
denial  of  the  ultimacy  of  relations  regarded  as  external  to  the  terms  related 
(cf.  p.  381  supra).  In  opposition  to  absolutism  the  independence  and 
externality  of  relations  is  maintained  by  contemporary  pluralists.  The 
argument  of  Russell  (cited  on  p.  381)  is  typical.  He  recognizes  three  doc- 
trines of  relation  : (1)  the  ‘monadistic,’  which  regards  relations  as  inherent 
in  each  of  several  terms;  (2)  the  ‘monistic,’  or  absolutist;  and  (3)  the 
realistic  conception  of  relations  as  ultimate  realities.  (1)  He  rejects  the 
monadistic  conception  for  the  reason  advanced  by  Bradley;  a relation 
inherent  in  one  of  several  terms  would  not  connect  one  term  with  any  other. 
(2)  He  opposes  the  absolutist  doctrine  on  the  ground  that  it  regards  relations 
merely  as  predicates  of  a subject.  Now  a subject,  he  says  (§  426)  “ cannot 
be  qualified  by  nothing”;  and  yet  if  the  relations  are  something,  they  are 
no  longer  mere  predicates.  There  remains  (3)  the  conception  of  relations  as 
ultimates.  But  this  doctrine,  as  Russell  realizes,  has  to  meet  Bradley’s 
objection  that  a relation  needs  relating  to  its  terms,  and  that  the  new  rela- 
tions need  relating  ad  infinitum.  Russell  admits  the  infinite  regress  (§  99) 
but  regards  it  as  ‘logically  . . . harmless’  on  the  curious  ground  that  the 
relation  ( R ) of  one  term  (a)  to  another  ( b ) does  not  “include  in  its  meaning,” 
though  it  implies,  the  relation  of  R to  a and  of  R to  b.  This  is,  surely,  a 
very  quibbling  defence  of  the  position  that  relations  are  ultimately  indepen- 
dent of  the  terms  which  supposedly  they  relate.  And  Russell’s  objection  to 
absolutism  is  met  by  the  appeal  to  experience.  His  dilemma  (either  the 
relation  is  independent  of  the  subject,  which  it  qualifies,  or  it  is  nothing) 
vanishes  before  the  discovery  that  I am  a self  relating  my  different  experi- 
ences ( e.g .,  two  conflicting  desires).  For  this  ‘relating’  and  the  terms 
which  it  relates  are  alike  within  me  — they  are  ‘something’  and  they  qualify 
me  — and  yet  they  are  not  ‘ logically  prior  ’ to  me. 


Monistic  Personal  Idealism  421 

To  recapitulate : the  doctrine,  here  set  forth,  of  the  absolute 
self,  like  the  so-called  pluralistic  doctrine  of  the  universe  as 
composed  of  many  selves,  is  qualitatively  monistic,  because 
it  views  the  universe  as  conscious  in  its  nature.  But,  unlike 
pluralistic  personal  idealism,  the  doctrine  of  the  absolute  self 
is  also  a numerically  monistic  doctrine,  not  because  it 
denies  the  existence  of  many  selves  (for  it  affirms  their  ex- 
istence), but  because  it  describes  the  universe,  not  only  as 
includer  of  selves  but  as  One  Self. 

The  conception  should  be  tested  by  its  application  to  those 
particular  relations  which  the  pluralist  theory,  spite  of  its 
teaching  of  the  fundamental  distinctness  of  the  many  selves, 
none  the  less  admits  as  existing  between  them.  Fundamen- 
tally, these  reduce  to  three  main  groups  : cognitive,  affective, 
active.  It  is  held  by  all  pluralists  1 that  these  selves  are  in 
their  ultimate  nature  aware  of  each  other,  and  by  most  plu- 
ralists that  the  selves  are  emotionally  affected  by  each  other 
and  that  they  actively  influence  each  other.  But  monistic  2 
doctrine  insists  that  the  consciousness  of  another  self,  what- 
ever its  character,  requires  the  ultimate  unity  of  the  self 
which  knows,  feels,  or  wills,  with  that  self  which  is  known, 
felt,  or  influenced.  Absolute  distinctness,  the  monist  teaches, 
would  carry  with  it  the  impossibility  of  such  relation ; the 
experienced  fact  of  the  relation  indicates,  beyond  a per- 
adventure,  the  ultimate  unity  of  the  related  selves.  The  real 
uniqueness  and  the  recognized  distinctness  of  each  self  which 
the  pluralist  emphasizes  are,  the  monist  insists,  relative  to 
the  unique  oneness  of  the  absolute  self. 

To  all  this,  the  pluralist  reiterates  the  objection : this 
doctrine  does  rank  violence  to  the  experience  on  which  it 
rests ; it  ignores  the  unambiguous  consciousness  of  each  one 
of  us:  I exist  for  myself,2  though  in  contrast  with  other 
selves ; and  the  independence  of  these  other  selves  is  required 

1 The  terms  ‘ pluralist  ’ and  ‘ monist,’  as  used  in  this  chapter,  refer  of 
course  to  numerically  pluralistic  and  monistic  thinkers. 

2 Cf.  Rashdall,  op.  cit.,  pp.  383  seq. 


422  Contemporary  Philosophical  Systems 

both  by  my  experienced  relations  to  them,  in  particular,  by 
my  relation  of  obligation,1  and  by  the  experienced  un- 
sharableness  of  my  own  consciousness.  In  reply  to  these 
objections,  the  monistic  personalist  attempts  to  show  that 
the  ultimate  reality  of  the  absolute  self  leaves  room  for  an 
independence  of  the  finite  selves  such  as  is  required  by  the 
facts  of  experience.  In  replying  to  the  pluralist  objection, 
the  monist  thus  develops  his  own  system.  In  the  following 
pages  the  doctrines  of  the  monists  will  be  discussed,  with 
special  reference  to  pluralistic  arguments,  in  the  following 
order:  first,  the  nature  of  the  absolute  self;  second,  the  in- 
dividuality of  the  human  self. 

i.  The  nature  0}  the  absolute  sel} 

Fundamental  to  the  study  of  other  problems  of  monistic 
personalism  is  the  analysis  of  the  conception  of  the  absolute 
self.  Here  it  is  of  capital  importance  to  remember  that  the 
term  ‘self,’  as  applied  to  the  Absolute,  must  mean,  qualita- 
tively, precisely  what  it  means  in  its  application  to  human 
selves.  To  call  the  absolute  reality  self  is  meaningless, 
unless  there  is  then  attributed  to  the  absolute  self  a con- 
sciousness which  is  like  that  of  finite  selves.2  From  finite 
selves  the  absolute  self  must,  it  is  true,  differ ; but  it  differs 
by  virtue  of  its  absoluteness,  not  by  virtue  of  its  selfhood.3 
One  may  be  guided,  therefore,  in  the  study  of  the  nature  of 
the  absolute  self  by  the  following  principle : to  attribute  to 
the  absolute  self  all  experiences  and  characters  of  the  finite 
self  which  are  essential  to  selfhood,  but  not  to  attribute  to  it 
any  qualities  which  are  inconsistent  with  absoluteness.  If 
this  prove  impossible,  — if  it  be  shown,  in  other  words,  that 
a self  is  necessarily  characterized  by  relativity,  that  is,  by  limi- 

1 Cf.  Howison,  op.  cit.,  p.  353s.  Cf.  also  Fichte,  cited  supra,  pp.  315  seq. 

J Cf.,  in  confirmation,  Rashdall’s  discussion  of  God’s  consciousness,  op. 
cit.,  § 15,  pp.  386  seq. 

3 Cf.  criticism  on  Fichte,  infra,  Chapter  9,  p.  358. 


Monistic  Personal  Idealism  423 

tation  from  without,  or  conversely,  if  it  be  shown  that  an 
absolute  reality  necessarily  lacks  some  of  the  essential  char- 
acters of  a self,  — then  the  concept  of  absolute  self  will 
perish,  as  it  were,  by  its  own  hands  in  disclosing  its  inner 
contradictoriness.  It  is,  however,  the  belief  of  the  monistic 
personal  idealist  that  the  two  characters,  selfhood  and  abso- 
luteness, are  compatible.  In  what  follows  the  effort  will  be 
made  to  exhibit  this  compatibility.  Negatively  it  will  be 
pointed  out  that  the  absoluteness  of  the  Self  prevents  our 
conceiving  it  as  primarily  or  exclusively  temporal.  This 
follows  from  the  evident  incompleteness  and  contradiction  of 
time.1  An  absolute  self  is  at  least  a complete  self,  and  the 
very  essence  of  time  is  its  incompleteness.  Thus,  the  Abso- 
lute must  be  conceived  as  supra-temporal,  as  immediately 
conscious  of  what  appears  to  finite  selves  as  present,  past, 
or  future.  This  character  of  the  absolute  self  will  be  later 
considered  in  the  discussion  of  the  relation  of  absolute  to 
partial  self. 

The  immediate  problem  of  this  study  of  the  absolute  self 
is  the  discovery  of  those  experiences  and  characters  of  the 
partial  self  which  may  be  attributed  to  the  absolute.  For 
the  purposes  of  a rough  analysis,  these  may  be  grouped  as, 
on  the  one  hand,  forms  of  consciousness:  (1)  perceiving 
and  imagining,  (2)  thinking,  (3)  feeling  (emotion),  (4)  affirm- 
ing (willing  and  believing) ; and  in  the  second  place  moral 
quality  (goodness  and  badness). 

(1)  To  begin  with  the  form  of  consciousness  first  named: 
perception  has  four  noticeable  features.  It  includes  a peculiar 
group  of  elemental,  conscious  experiences  — sensations,  as 
they  are  usually  called;  it  involves  the  passive  accept- 
ance by  the  human  self  of  these  sensational  experiences; 
it  is  a direct,  an  unmediated,  consciousness;  and  finally,  per- 
ception is  an  experience  regarded  as  shared : the  actual  or 
possible  consciousness  of  oneself  as  experiencing  what  one 


1 Cf.  pp.  441  stq. 


424  Contemporary  Philosophical  Systems 

feels  that  any  number  of  other  selves  do  or  may  experience.1 
Now  it  is  necessary  to  attribute  to  the  absolute  self  the  first 
and  third  of  these  factors  of  experience,  sensuousness  and 
immediateness.  All  the  consciousness  of  the  absolute  self, 
in  its  absoluteness,  is  immediate,  since  mediation  requires 
time,  whereas  the  absolute  must  be  supra-temporal.2  It  is 
equally  evident  that  the  absolute  self  must  have  sensational 
consciousness,  since  he  must  experience  every  sort  and  variety 
of  consciousness  which  is  experienced  by  human  selves  — 
otherwise,  of  course,  the  absolute  self  would  miss  what  the 
finite  self  possesses.  In  Royce’s  words:3  “Unless  the  Abso- 
lute knows  what  we  know  when  we  endure  and  wait,  when 
we  love  and  struggle,  when  we  long  and  suffer,  the  Absolute 
in  so  far  is  less  and  not  more  than  we  are.”  The  old  ration- 
alistic view  which  denied  sense  experience  to  God,  which 
thought  it  impious  to  conceive  of  God  as  smelling  or  tast- 
ing, really  derogates  from  the  infiniteness,  the  completeness, 
of  God’s  consciousness.4  But  though  the  sensuousness  and 
the  immediacy  of  perception  are  rightly  attributed  to  the 
absolute  self,  he  cannot,  in  the  human  way,  experience  its 
passivity.  For  passivity  in  any  ultimate  sense  is  evidently 
a consequence  of  the  limitation  of  the  human  self.  .To  the 
Absolute,  whose  being  constitutes  reality,  there  can  be  noth- 
ing utterly  unavoidable.  We  see  and  hear  what  we  must  see 
and  hear,  but  the  absolute  self  must  be  free  and  uncompelled, 
in  his  seeing  and  hearing,  as  in  all  his  experiences.  There 
remains  the  question  whether  the  absolute  self  may  be  said 
to  perceive  in  the  sense  of  sharing  his  sense  consciousness 


1 For  justification  of  these  psychological  distinctions  of  this  section,  cf. 
the  author’s  “An  Introduction  to  Psychology,”  Chap.  14,  pp.  169  seq.;  and 
“Der  doppelte  Standpunkt  in  der  Psychologie ” (Veit  u.Cie.,  1905),  pp.  40 seq. 

2 Cf.  pp.  442  seq.  below. 

3 “The  World  and  the  Individual,”  II.,  p.  364. 

* Doubtless  this  common,  rationalistic  doctrine  is  based  on  the  convic- 
tion that  God,  if  he  had  sense  consciousness,  must  possess  bodily  organs. 
Yet  no  theist  denies  thought  and  will  to  God,  though  they,  also,  are  corre- 
lated with  bodily  changes. 


Monistic  Personal  Idealism  425 

with  other  selves.  An  affirmative  answer  to  this  question  is 
at  least  possible.  For,  as  the  next  section  will  show  in  more 
detail,  the  existence  of  the  absolute  self  cannot  be  taken  as 
denying  the  existence  of  the  finite  and  perceiving  selves. 
The  perception  (if  the  term  be  allowed)  of  the  absolute  self 
may  well,  then,  be  defined  as  the  sense  consciousness  which 
he  shares  with  the  finite  selves,  included  within  him. 

At  this  point  emerges  the  following  question : does  the 
absolute  self  not  only  perceive,  but  imagine?  For  imagina- 
tion, as  possessed  by  human  beings,  is  distinguished  from 
perception  precisely  herein  that  imagination  is  regarded  as  a 
primarily  private  unshared  experience,  whereas  in  perception 
one  regards  other  selves  as  sharing  one’s  sensational  con- 
sciousness. Now  imagination,  in  at  least  one  allied  meaning 
of  the  term,  may  be  attributed  to  the  absolute  self.1  Human 
selves  imagine  possibilities  contrary  to  fact.  I may,  for  in- 
stance, imagine  that  Columbus  did  not  discover  America ; 
but  my  imagination  must  be  object  of  the  consciousness  of 
the  absolute  self  — else  there  were,  ■per  impossibile,  conscious 
experience  outside  him;  and  the  Absolute’s  consciousness 
of  this  idea  of  mine  as  relatively  unshared  may,  not  unfairly, 
be  called  imagination.2 

It  is  necessary,  then,  to  conclude  that  the  absolute  self  must 
have,  like  the  finite  selves,  all  varieties  of  elemental  sense 
experience ; that  he  may  share  it  with  conscious  finite 


1 On  two  grounds  objection  is  often  made  to  this  conception  of  imagina- 
tion. It  is  urged  that  our  habit  of  describing  imagined  scenes  proves  our 
belief  that  imaginations  may  be  shared ; and  that,  on  the  other  hand,  per- 
ceptions as  truly  as  imaginations  are  unshared.  In  answer  to  this  last 
objection  it  should  be  noted  that  perception  has  been  defined,  not  as  actually 
shared  experience  (for  from  a psychological  standpoint  that  question  is 
not  raised),  but  as  experience  regarded  as  shared;  and  it  is  certain  that 
we  do  habitually  believe  ourselves  to  be  seeing  with  others.  With  refer- 
ence to  the  charge  that  description  presupposes  the  consciousness  of 
imagination  as  shared,  it  may  be  pointed  out  that  the  aim  of  description 
is  to  create  similar,  rather  than  identical,  experience;  in  other  words,  I call 
on  you  not  to  share  my  imagination,  but  merely  to  form  an  image  like  mine. 

2 Cf.  Lotze,  “Metaphysics,”  Book  I.,  chapter  6,  79,  p.  183. 


426  Contemporary  P hilosophical  Systems 

selves;  but  that  the  passivity  which  belongs  to  all  human 
perception  is  incompatible  with  the  experience  of  the  Self 
who  inhabits  eternity  and  beyond  whom  is  no  reality. 

(2)  The  second  of  the  definite  questions  proposed  in  this 
section  is  the  following : may  the  absolute  self  be  said  to  think? 
Tradition,  which  has  almost  uniformly  denied  the  perceptual 
nature  of  the  supra-human  consciousness,  has  here  no  objec- 
tion to  offer.  Thought,  like  perception,  is  realized  as  a shared 
consciousness;  it  is  contrasted  with  perception  in  the  fol- 
lowing ways : it  is  characterized  by  relational  not  by  sensa- 
tional elements ; it  is,  in  general,  more  complete,  less  frag- 
mentary, than  perception ; 1 it  is  a more  indirect  or  mediate 
consciousness;  finally,  a certain  necessity  is  attributed  to  it. 
In  the  first  of  these  aspects,  thought  must  evidently  be  attrib- 
uted to  the  absolute  self.  Absoluteness  involves  inclusive- 
ness of  experience  and  the  absolute  self  must  be  conscious 
of  every  shade  and  variety  of  likeness,  difference,  union,  and 
opposition,  no  less  than  of  every  hue,  tint,  odor,  and  form. 
It  is  equally  evident  that  the  absolute  self-consciousness  must 
be  characterized  by  a necessity  deeper  than  that  of  any  par- 
tial self’s  consciousness,  and  by  a completeness  which  human 
experience  approximates  only  in  the  form  of  thought.  Be- 
tween our  fragmentary,  relatively  unconnected,  perceptions 
and  the  systems  of  thought  in  which  percepts  and  images 
are  linked  in  well-ordered  dependence,  one  on  the  other, 
there  is  indeed  a marked  contrast.  The  absolute  self,  also, 
is  conscious  of  well-ordered  wholes ; but  his  whole  is  the  com- 
plete sphere  of  reality,  and  he  has  not  to  attain  this  complete- 
ness of  insight  in  a slow  and  mediated  way.  Thus,  the 
mediacy  and  the  indirectness  of  thinking  — evidenced  es- 
pecially in  the  slow  process  of  syllogistic  reasoning  — must 
be  foreign  to  the  absolute  consciousness.  The  Self,  which 
knows  and  is  all,  does  not  gain  truth  by  degrees,  or  see  it 
bit  by  bit.  To  borrow  a term  from  traditional  metaphysics, 


1 Cf.  Royce,  “The  Conception  of  God,”  pp.  27  seq. 


Monistic  Personal  Idealism  427 

the  absolute  self  has  intellektuale  Anschauung,  thought-in- 
tuition ; he  unites  the  directness  of  human  perception  with 
more  than  the  completeness  of  human  thought.  Thus,  to 
recapitulate  and  complete  this  section  of  the  discussion : 
the  absolute  self  must  contain  all  the  characteristic  elements 
of  the  thought  consciousness;  his  must  be  indeed  the  only 
really  necessary  and  complete  consciousness.  The  absolute 
self  may,  furthermore,  share  his  thoughts,  no  less  than  his 
percepts,  with  finite  selves.  The  mediacy  and  indirectness 
of  human  thought  is,  however,  incompatible  with  his  abso- 
luteness. 

(3)  Emotions  constitute  the  next  great  group  of  human 
experiences,  and  accordingly  the  next  problem  of  the  present 
discussion  is  the  question  whether  emotional  consciousness 
may  be  attributed  to  the  absolute  self.  The  answer  to  the 
question,  of  course,  requires  a preliminary  analysis.  In  the 
opinion  of  the  present  writer,  emotion  is  a doubly  individual- 
izing, passive,  and  affective  experience.1  That  is  to  say,  in 
emotion  I am  profoundly  conscious  of  myself  as  affected, 
happily  or  unhappily,  by  selves  or  objects  which  I individu- 
alize, differentiate  from  the  mass  of  selves  or  things,  in  being 
emotionally  conscious  of  them.  These  characters  are  best 
considered  in  reverse  order.  To  begin  with,  since  the 
absolute  self  is  utterly  complete,  it  must  have  every  sort  of 
experience,  and  therefore  the  affective  experience  in  both  its 
phases,  pleasure  and  pain.2  Here,  again,  we  do  violence  to 
traditional  philosophy.  For  centuries  past,  expositors  of 
the  nature  of  the  supra-human  self,  Greek  mythologists  and 
Christian  theologians  alike,  have  denied  the  possibility  of 
his  suffering  — have  represented  him  as  secure  from  the 
human  lot  of  misery  and  sorrow.  Philosophical  upholders 

‘“An  Introduction  to  Psychology,”  second  edition,  pp.  264-266;  “Der 
doppelte  Standpunkt  in  der  Psychologie,”  p.  58. 

2 The  word  ‘ pain’  is  here  used,  for  want  of  an  exact  opposite  to  ‘pleasure,’ 
in  a psychologically  inaccurate  sense,  not  to  designate  the  dermal  sense  con- 
sciousness due  to  laceration,  but  to  mean  ‘ consciousness  of  the  unpleasant.’ 


428  Contemporary  Philosophical  Systems 

of  this  doctrine  have,  it  is  true,  admitted  the  necessity  of 
reconciling  it  with  that  of  the  completeness  of  the  divine  con- 
sciousness; and  they  have  attempted  this  reconciliation  by 
distinguishing  divine,  or  supra-human,  knowledge  from  feel- 
ing, and  by  the  teaching  that  the  supra-human  self  knows 
pain  without  feeling  it.1  In  the  opinion  of  the  present  writer, 
this  distinction  is  psychologically  unjustifiable.  One  can 
no  more  know  pain  without  feeling  it,  than  one  can  know 
color  without  seeing  it.  And,  more  than  this,  the  doctrine 
buttressed  by  this  shaky  psychology  is,  after  all,  incompatible 
with  the  conception  of  the  absolute  self’s  completeness  and 
albinclusiveness  of  experience.  Pain,  as  felt,  is  as  distinct 
and  elemental  a kind  of  consciousness  as  color  or  form  or 
pleasure;  it  must,  therefore,  constitute  an  element  of  the 
absolute  experience. 

It  is  thus  evident  that  the  absolute  self  must  be  affectively 
conscious.  But  affection  is  one  aspect  only  of  emotion. 
A second  aspect,  passivity,  so  far  as  it  belongs  to  the  ab- 
solute self,  is  a subordinated  factor.2  On  this  character, 
not  universally  attributed  to  emotion,  it  is,  however,  unim- 
portant to  lay  much  stress.  But  the  final  factor  of  emotion, 
its  doubly  individualizing  tendency,  is  of  the  greatest  signifi- 
cance. In  feeling,  my  own  central  personality  is  the  object 
of  my  individualizing  attention,  always  as  related  to  some 
special  other  self,  or  special  object.  In  perception  and  in 
thought  also,  I am,  it  is  true,  conscious  of  other  selves 
as  sharing  my  experience,  but  these  are  ‘any’  or  ‘all’  selves, 
whereas  in  loving  or  in  hating  it  is  a particular  self  of  whom 
I am  conscious.  Such  an  individualizing  consciousness 
must,  now,  be  attributed  to  the  absolute  self  if  any  human 
individual  is  in  any  sense  admitted  to  exist.  For  the  absolute 
self,  with  his  perfect  knowledge,  could  know  such  limited 
individual  self  only  as  particular  and  unique.  Now  intro- 
spection testifies  that  I,  at  least,  exist ; and  evidently,  there  - 

1 Cf.  Berkeley,  “ Dialogues  between  Hylas  and  Philonous,”  III. 

2 Cf.  infra,  pp.  451-452. 


Monistic  Personal  Idealism  429 

fore,  since  the  absolute  self  is  affectively  conscious,  he  must 
be  able  affectively  to  individualize  me. 

(4)  In  attributing  to  the  absolute  self  the  active  experience 
of  will,  we  are  once  more  in  accord  with  much  of  traditional 
philosophy.  By  will  is  meant  the  active,  dominating  relation 
of  a self  to  other  selves  or  to  things ; 1 and  it  is  plain  that 
the  Self  of  which  all  other  real  beings,  selves  or  not-selves,  are 
the  expressions,  must  be  actively,  assertively  related  to  them. 
Activity  must  be,  indeed,  the  fundamental  character  of  the 
absolute  self ; and  will,  the  supreme,  assertive  attitude,  must 
be  the  basal  relation  of  absolute  to  partial  self.  The  human 
self  is,  thus,  in  the  deepest  sense,  an  expression  of  absolute 
will,  in  other  words,  a particular  purpose  of  the  absolute 
self;  and  in  this  sense  the  Absolute  is  the  creator,  or  cause, 
of  finite  realities,  which  exist  as  his  purposes.  A later 
section  of  this  chapter  will  discuss  the  possibility  of  the 
partial  freedom  of  these  finite  selves.  For  the  present,  it 
will  suffice  to  suggest  that,  by  this  conception  of  the  Absolute 
as  essentially  a willing,  active  self,  absolutist  philosophy,  in 
the  form  in  which  this  book  upholds  it,  meets  a criticism 
often  made  by  pragmatists  and  by  other  anti-rationalists. 
These  critics  object  to  the  reduction  of  the  world,  so  rich  in 
will  and  in  feeling,  to  the  purely  logical  universe  of  an  abso- 
lute thinker.  It  is  obvious  that  the  criticism  does  not  apply 
to  the  conception  of  an  Absolute  who  feels  and  wills.  Yet 
there  remains  a real  opposition  between  the  pragmatist  and 
the  absolutist  conception  of  will.  In  the  view  of  the  prag- 
matist, will  has  always  a reference  to  the  future  and  he 
opposes  absolutism  as  denying  (so  he  believes)  the  reality 
of  struggle  and  of  progress.  The  place  of  temporal  reality, 
in  the  world  of  the  Absolute,  will  be  considered  later.  But  it 
must  here  be  emphasized  that  will  is  not  always,  or  even 
primarily,  an  attitude  toward  the  future.  The  human  will 
may  indeed  be  directed  toward  the  future  event,  but 
will  does  not  necessarily  look  toward  the  future;  it  is, 
1 Cf.  “An  Introduction  to  Psychology,”  pp.  307  seq. 


430  Contemporary  Philosophical  Systems 

primarily,  an  active,  subordinating  attitude  of  one  self  to 
another,  in  which  time  may  be  left  out  of  account. 

This  attempted  analysis  of  the  absolute  self-conscious- 
ness would  be  culpably  incomplete  if  it  halted  here.  For, 
besides  the  predicates,  ‘knowing,’  ‘feeling,’  and  ‘willing,’ 
by  which  we  characterize  human  selves,  there  are  the  so- 
called  moral  attributes,  ‘good’  and  ‘bad.’  And  one  of  the 
peculiarities  of  these  attributes  is  their  opposition : a self  is 
a knowing,  feeling,  and  willing  self ; but  it  is  not,  either  once 
for  all  or  at  one  and  the  same  time,  both  a good  and  a bad  self. 
The  present  problem  is,  therefore,  whether  either  goodness 
or  badness,  or  both  goodness  and  badness,  or  neither,  should 
be  predicated  of  the  absolute  self.  It  must  be  remembered 
that  this  question  is  asked  of  the  absolute  self,  in  its  absolute- 
ness. That  the  absolute  self  includes  what  we  know  as  good- 
ness and  badness  is  as  certain  as  the  existence  of  good  and 
evil  finite  selves,  or  even  as  the  existence  of  a single  self, 
alternately  good  and  bad.  But  this  inquiry  concerns  the 
individuality  of  the  Absolute,  as  absolute,  the  individuality 
which  is  manifested  in,  and  not  made  up  by,  that  of  the  human 
selves.  Is  the  one  real  Self,  the  self  whose  selfhood  is  un- 
shared with  any  partial  self,  good  or  bad,  both,  or  neither? 

To  one  of  these  questions,  a negative  answer  may  at  once 
be  given.  An  absolute  self  is  a complete,  a consistent,  not 
a self-contradictory  consciousness.  Therefore,  since  ‘good’ 
and  ‘bad’  are  antithetical,  an  absolute  self-consciousness  is 
not,  as  absolute,  both  good  and  bad.  And  it  will  further- 
more appear,  if  one  follow  the  clue  of  human  analogy,  that 
an  absolute  self-consciousness  is  not  itself  bad.  For  observa- 
tion indicates  that  moral  badness  is  a function  of  partialness. 
It  is  a commonplace  of  practical  ethics  that  the  more  closely 
self-centred  or  selfish  I — the  single  self  — become,  the 
more  morally  defective  I grow.  In  other  words  : the  greater 
my  emphasis  on  myself,  as  distinguished  from  other  selves, 
the  greater  my  sin.  And  the  converse  is  true : the  self  who 
sees  others  as  belonging  within  the  confines  of  his  own  true 


Monistic  Personal  Idealism 


431 


self  will  do  justice  and  love  mercy  and  fulfil  all  the  ideals 
of  moral  goodness.  It  will  follow,  if  this  analogy  may 
properly  be  extended,  that  the  Absolute  who  recognizes  all 
finite  selves  as  parts  of  himself,  the  Self  whose  selfhood  is 
complete  and  all-extensive,  will  rightly  be  named  ‘good.’ 

A real  difficulty  is,  however,  involved  in  the  reconciliation 
of  the  possible  or  probable  goodness  of  the  absolute  self  with 
the  actually  experienced  evils  of  the  universe.  How,  if  the 
absolute  self  be  inherently  good,  can  the  universe  contain 
the  evil  which  we  directly  know?  Anti-theistic,  pluralist 
idealism  does  not,  of  course,  encounter  this  problem,  for  it 
finds  no  difficulty  in  attributing  evil  to  any  limited  self. 
Even  theistic  personalism  may  avoid  the  difficulty  if  it  frankly 
conceive  God,  after  F.  C.  S.  Schiller’s  fashion,  as  a finite, 
though  greater-than-human,  self.  The  prevailing  religious 
consciousness,  on  the  other  hand,  acutely  feels  this  difficulty 
of  monistic  personalism.  For  the  religious  consciousness  has 
inherited  the  conviction  of  God’s  power,  and  believes  itself 
to  experience  his  goodness : it  consequently  realizes  the 
difficulty  of  proving  this  goodness  in  the  face  of  the  shatter- 
ing and  devastating  evils  of  human  experience.  It  is  pri- 
marily of  importance  not  to  belittle  the  problem.  A shallow 
optimism,  which  neglects  the  evil  either  from  selfish  pre- 
occupation with  personal  good  fortune,  or  from  an  arbitrarily 
limited  observation  of  nature-adaptations,  offers  no  founda- 
tion for  the  doctrine  that  the  absolute  self  is  not  merely 
all-real,  all-powerful,  and  all-knowing,  but  all-good.  The 
goodness  of  the  absolute  self,  if  it  be  not  compatible  with  the 
existence  of  actual  suffering  and  real  sin,  is  a baseless  fic- 
tion, not  a sober  metaphysical  doctrine. 

The  abstract  requirements  of  a conception  of  the  absolute 
self  as  good  are  readily  outlined.  If  the  absolute  self,  in  its 
absoluteness,  is  to  be  good,  not  bad,  and  if  yet  the  evil  must 
be  regarded  as  actual,  then  evil  must  be  a subordinate  factor, 
or  element,  of  the  good : it  must  be  evil,  in  isolation,  yet 
capable  of  forming  part  of  a total  good,  somewhat  as  a chord 


432  Contemporary  Philosophical  Systems 

which,  taken  by  itself,  is  a discord,  may  yet  form  a part  of  a 
larger  harmony.  Two  considerations  ably  set  forth,  years 
ago,  by  Professor  Royce,1  establish,  in  the  writer’s  opinion, 
the  possibility  — nay,  the  probability  — of  this  view  of  evil 
as  a transcended  factor  in  the  experience  of  the  absolute 
self.  The  first  of  these  is  an  undoubted  fact  of  human  con- 
sciousness : the  experience  that  suffering  nobly  borne  and 
temptation  vanquished  enrich  the  life  and  strengthen  the 
character  — in  a word,  that  they  are  elements  of  a wider 
good.  Every  human  self  which  knows,  however  intermit- 
tently, the  strength  developed  by  resistance  of  moral  seduc- 
tions and  the  rich  fruits  of  sorrow  patiently  endured,  knows 
that  the  “hours  of  mortal  moral  strife,  alone  aright  reveal” 
the  deepest  goodness  of  the  soul.  From  this  point  of  view, 
the  evils  of  our  human  existence  are  the  elements  of  an  ex- 
perience which,  regarded  in  its  totality,  is  good,  not  evil. 
And  the  absolute  self’s  consciousness  of  these  evils,  as  in 
themselves  bad,  is  such  a consciousness  as  the  good  man’s 
experience  of  temptation : he  is  aware  of  the  luring  thought, 
of  the  enticing  evil,  but  he  is  not  morally  defiled  by  this 
awareness  of  evil,  for  he  is  conscious  of  the  bad  only  to  hate 
it ; he  recognizes  evil  only  to  vanquish  it.  So  the  Absolute, 
which  is  the  complete  self,  must  indeed  be  conscious  of  sor- 
row and  of  sin,  but  is  conscious  of  them  only  in  conquering 
them,  and  is  not,  therefore,  evil  by  the  fact  of  including 
evil. 

To  this  conception  of  the  goodness  of  the  absolute  self, 
the  following  objection  may  be  made : It  has  indeed  — it 
may  be  admitted  — - been  shown  how  evil,  granted  its  exist- 
ence, may  be  a subordinate  part  of  the  absolute  self.  But 
why,  it  may  be  urged,  does  evil  exist  at  all,  if  all  that  exists 
is  willed,  assented  to,  or  chosen,  by  an  absolute  and  yet  a 
good  self?  It  is  easy  to  see  how  suffering  greatly  borne  and 
temptation  fiercely  fought  may  be  the  self-assertions  of  an 


1 “Spirit  of  Modern  Philosophy,”  Lecture  XIII.,  pp.  440  seq. 


Monistic  Personal  Idealism  433 

absolutely  good  self.  But  there  is  sin  and  sorrow  which  can- 
not, it  is  insisted,  be  regarded  as  the  objects  of  the  will  of  a 
good  and  yet  an  absolute  self  — in  terms  of  theology,  of  a 
God  who  permits  them.  Griefs  which  narrow  and  belittle 
the  mind,  unresisted  temptations  which  work  the  ruin  of  the 
soul,  contaminating  vice  with  its  entail  of  hopeless  misery 
and  multiplying  sin,  — all  these,  it  is  urged,  are  evils  of  so 
positive  a nature  that  they  must  taint  the  goodness  of  the 
self  which,  by  virtue  of  its  absoluteness,  actually  must  have 
willed  them,  inasmuch  as  they  exist. 

Only  one  reply  can  be  made  to  this  objection.  The  abso- 
lute self,  because  complete,  includes  — it  has  been  shown  — 
all  human  experience  as  integral  part  of  himself.  It  follows 
that  the  absolute  self  has  all  the  experience  that  the  human 
selves  have.  In  a real  sense,  therefore,  he  shares  our  sor- 
row, is  afflicted  in  our  affliction,  knows  our  grief.  No  an- 
guish can  wring  the  human  heart  but  is  felt  by  the  absolute 
self ; no  self-contempt  can  flame  up  within  the  human  spirit 
but  is  experienced  by  the  all-including  self.  In  other  words, 
the  absolute  self  is  no  God  afar  off,  no  supreme  Being  who 
decrees  misery  that  he  does  not  share,  no  divinity  who  feasts 
and  delights  in  a distant  Olympus,  while  below  him  his 
human  subjects  toil  and  sin  and  suffer.  But  it  is  not  conceiv- 
able that  a self  whose  will  constitutes  reality  should  will  his 
own  evil,  if  that  evil  be  positive  and  unconquered.  The  fact 
that  the  absolute  self  shares  in  human  suffering  is,  thus, 
a guarantee  that  the  sorrow  is  neither  final  nor  ultimate, 
that  sin  and  misery,  to  human  view  irreconcilable  with  good- 
ness, are  none  the  less  the  elements  — but  the  transcended 
elements  — of  the  experience  of  an  absolute  and  good  self. 
It  must  be  conceded  that  this  reply  to  the  objection  of  those 
who  hold  that  the  absolute  self,  because  he  wills  and  asserts 
the  evil,  cannot  be  good,  offers  no  explanation  of  the  exist- 
ence of  the  deepest  human  suffering.  No  finite  self,  indeed, 
has  ever  probed  this  tragic  mystery.  What  has  been  insisted 
on  is  simply  this : that  the  existence  of  evil  is  reconcilable, 


434  Contemporary  Philosophical  Systems 

though  not  by  us  at  this  stage  of  our  development,  with  the 
goodness  of  the  absolute  self.  And  the  grounds  of  this  con- 
clusion are  simply  these  : the  absolute  self  has  willed  his  own 
evil,  as  well  as  ours;  and  would  not  have  affirmed  it  save 
as  subordinated  to  a wider  good. 

This  analysis  of  the  consciousness  to  be  attributed  to 
an  absolute  self  gives  the  following  results : it  has  been 
found  that  the  absolute  self  has  all  the  elemental  experiences 
— sensational,  affective,  relational  — of  human  selves ; that 
he  is  conscious  of  himself  as  actively  related  to  the  finite  selves, 
included  within  himself ; that  his  experience  is  utterly  complete. 
Because  of  this  completeness,  however,  the  absolute  experi- 
ence, as  absolute,  lacks  the  essential  temporality,  the  mediacy, 
and  the  passivity  of  the  human  consciousness.  The  more 
general  conclusions  from  the  discussion  are,  first,  a convic- 
tion of  the  richness  of  this  absolute  self-consciousness  and  of 
the  consequent  impossibility  of  defining  it  in  terms  of  any  one 
of  its  aspects  — whether  Thought,  or  Will,  or  Love.  Only 
when  thought  (for  example)  is  taken,  after  Hegel’s  fashion,  to 
mean  self-consciousness  can  it  be  rightly  used  as  synonym 
for  the  absolute,  and  consequently  complete,  experience. 
It  is  observable,  in  the  second  place,  that  the  attempt  to  clas- 
sify the  absolute  self-consciousness  has  broken  certain  lines 
of  division  necessary  to  a purely  human  psychology ; and  that 
it  is  indeed,  therefore,  impossible  to  conceive  the  absolute 
self  as  perceiving,  thinking,  or  feeling,  in  the  precise  sense 
which  psychology  gives  to  these  terms.  Perception  and 
thought  merge  the  one  into  the  other,  when  perception  has 
lost  its  passivity  and  thought  its  mediateness.  Similarly, 
emotion  approaches  will  when  it  is  conceived  as  an  active 
form  of  consciousness.  The  main  distinction  in  the  absolute 
self’s  consciousness  really  — it  appears  — lies  between  his 
unparticularizing  consciousness  (roughly  coordinate,  but  not 
identical,  with  human  perception  and  thought),  and  his 
strongly  individualizing  consciousness  (coordinate  with  emo- 


Monistic  Personal  Idealism 


435 


tion  and  will),  the  aspects  of  his  experience  which  demand 
the  existence  of  sharply  differentiated,  unique,  partial  selves. 
The  problems  involved  in  the  conception  of  these  partial 
selves  must  now  be  discussed.  These  problems  are  the 
nature  of  the  individuality  attributed  to  these  human  selves ; 
the  reasons  for  attributing  to  human  selves,  which  are 
expressions  of  an  absolute  self,  any  individuality;  and  the 
reconciliation  of  human  with  absolute  individuality. 

2.  Human  individuality  1 

The  issue  between  pluralistic  personal  idealism  and  the 
monistic  personalism,  which  this  chapter  outlines  and  de- 
fends, is  simply  this : Pluralist  and  monist  alike  are  imme- 
diately certain  of  human  individuality,  ‘ the  essentially  unique 
being  ’ 2 of  the  human  self.  The  monist,  however,  reasons 
that  ultimate  reality  must  consist  in  absolute  self.  To  this 
doctrine  the  pluralist  offers  two  significant  objections.  He 
urges,  first,  that  the  conception  of  a self  as  including  selves 
involves  an  impossibility,  second,  that  the  existence  of  the 
human  selves  merely  as  manifestations  of  an  including 
absolute  self  would  make  human  individuality  impossible. 
The  monist  has,  thus,  the  alternative  of  meeting  these  objec- 

1 In  this  section,  Professor  Royce’s  teaching  is  substantially  followed. 
In  the  opinion  of  the  present  writer  no  one  has  dealt  so  subtly  and  so  satis- 
factorily with  the  problems  involved  in  the  reconciliation  of  the  rights  of  indi- 
viduality with  the  implications  of  an  absolutist,  a numerically  monistic, 
idealism.  The  present  section,  then,  is  based  throughout  upon  the  teach- 
ings of  Royce,  as  formulated  in  the  “ Conception  of  God”  and  in  the  “ World 
and  the  Individual,”  especially  Series  II. 

The  divergences  from  Royce’s  teaching  concern  chiefly  what  may  be  called 
his  psychology  and  his  terminology.  These  divergences  are  more  apparent 
in  the  section  which  has  preceded  than  in  this.  They  are,  in  particular,  these : 
(i)  The  term  ‘experience’  is  used  in  the  broad  sense  ‘consciousness,’  not  as 
by  Royce,  for  equivalent  of  ‘presentation’  or  ‘brute  fact.’  (2)  Royce’s 
contrast,  to  the  writer  inherently  vague  and  unanalyzed,  between  ‘brute  fact’ 
and  ‘idea’  is  not  made.  (3)  Will  is  not,  as  by  Royce,  identified  with  attention. 
(4)  Positively,  the  conception  of  all  forms  of  consciousness  as  relations  of 
selves  is  insisted  on.  (Cf.  also  note,  injra,  p.  438.) 

2 Royce,  “ Conception  of  God  ” (1902),  p.  3411. 


436  Contemporary  Philosophical  Systems 

tions  or  of  abandoning  either  the  immediate  certainty  that 
human  selves  exist  or  the  inferred  doctrine  that  the  universe 
is  absolute  self.  In  defence  of  his  first  objection,  the  pluralist 
insists : The  monist  conceives  what  is  directly  contrary  to 
human  experience.  Misled  by  a spatial  metaphor,  he  talks 
of  minds  as  if  they  were  ‘ Chinese  boxes  which  can  be  put  inside 
of  each  other,’ 1 whereas  one  self  simply  cannot  include 
another  self.  Now  it  is  open  to  the  monist  to  retort : Plu- 
ralism involves  the  reality  of  an  experience  at  least  equally 
inconceivable,  in  that  it  conceives  of  essentially  distinct 
selves  as  aware  of  each  other.  The  reality  of  my  experience 
of  other  selves  involves,  the  monist  well  may  insist,  the  only 
sort  of  ‘inclusion’  of  selves  within  an  absolute  self  which 
monism  claims.  But  to  meet  charge  with  counter  charge 
is  an  unsatisfying  argument,  even  when,  as  here,  one  believes 
that  one’s  opponent’s  inconsistency  implies  the  truth  that  he 
criticises.  The  monist  has,  in  fact,  a reply  far  better  than  a 
tu  quoque  to  the  pluralist’s  charge.  For  he  can  show  that 
the  private  experience  of  each  one  of  us  furnishes  the  exam- 
ple of  a self  inclusive  of  selves.  How  sharply,  for  example, 
I distinguish  my  childhood  self,  the  self  of  one  jubilant  year 
of  youth,  the  self  of  a period  of  philosophic  vagaries,  from  what 
I know  as  my  whole  self,  myself  par  excellence.  Even  with- 
out the  distinction  by  temporal  periods,  I am  conscious  of 
well-differentiated  partial  selves  within  myself  — of  a radical 
and  a conservative  self,  a frivolous  and  a strenuous  self,  for 
example.  Such  self-differentiation  of  the  finite  self  makes 
it  impossible  to  deny  a priori  the  inclusion  of  partial  selves 
within  the  absolute  self. 

At  this  point  the  pluralist  may  suggest  the  following  dif- 
ficulties. The  conception  of  absolute  monism  supposes, 
he  will  urge,  the  existence  of  an  Absolute  which  is  not  only 
includer  but  also  self.  And  this  unique  personality  must 
be  regarded,  the  pluralist  says,  as  indivisible.  Hence,  he 


1 Rashdall,  op.  cit.,  VIII.,  § 15,  p.  3881. 


Monistic  Personal  Idealism 


437 


proceeds,  if  the  absolute  self  is  in  any  partial  self,  it  must  be 
all  in  that  self.  But  this  is  impossible,  for  it  would  make  such 
a partial  self  absolute;  and  it  follows  that  the  absolute  self 
cannot  be  in  any  partial  self.  Otherwise  put,  the  pluralist 
continues,  the  aspect  or  character  that  constitutes  the  Ab- 
solute a person  is  just  the  aspect  in  which  he  is  contrasted 
with  any  partial,  self  — with  you  or  me.  On  this  side,  he 
doesn’t  include  us;  hence  it  is  not  as  unique  self  that 
he  is  absolute;  hence  his  personality  as  such  is  limited 
personality  — limited  by  what  is  not  it.  Hence  as  person  he 
is  not  absolute.  The  appeal  of  this  objection  (which  recalls 
a famous  passage  of  the  “Parmenides”)  is  due  partly  to  the 
spatial  metaphor  illicitly  suggested  by  the  word  ‘ indivisible  ’ ; 
and  partly  to  the  assumption  that  personality  is  a mere  aspect 
of  the  Absolute.  In  reply  the  monist  insists  that  the  Absolute, 
and  not  a mere  character  of  the  Absolute,  is  personality  or 
self ; and  he  energetically  denies  that  the  Absolute  is  indi- 
visible in  the  sense  which  this  argument  requires : only  a 
spatial  unit,  he  holds,  is  in  this  sense  either  divisible  or  indi- 
visible. Just  as  I,  John  Smith,  know  myself  as  constituting 
both  my  childhood  and  my  adult  self,  and  therefore  as  op- 
posed or  limited  by  neither  of  them,  and  just  as  I know  my- 
self, also,  as  more  than  any  sum  of  partial  selves  or  experiences 
so  the  absolute  person  includes  us,  the  partial  selves,  and 
yet  his  personality  is  neither  exhausted  nor  limited  by  that  of 
any  partial  self. 

But  the  pluralist,  it  will  be  remembered,  has  another  ob- 
jection to  the  doctrine  of  an  absolute  self.  Even  if  finite 
selves  were  ‘included,’  in  some  sense,  within  the  absolute 
self,  they  would  lack,  the  pluralist  insists,  all  that  we  call  in- 
dividuality; they  would  be  unparticularized  selves,  each 
distinguished  only  by  numerical  position,  from  all  the  others, 
since  each  would  be  merely  the  expression  of  the  one  and 
same  absolute  self.  In  meeting  this  objection,  it  is  necessary, 
first,  to  undertake  a close  scrutiny  of  the  nature  of  individu- 
ality. The  results  of  such  a scrutiny  have  been  suggested 


438  Contemporary  Philosophical  Systems 

in  the  preceding  section  of  this  chapter.  The  individual  is 
the  unique,  and  since  all  reality  is  conscious  self,  an  indi- 
vidual is  such  through  and  for  the  individualizing  conscious- 
ness. But,  as  has  appeared,  one  individualizes  when  one  feels 
or  wills.1  There  is  nothing  individualizing  in  the  merely  per- 
ceiving or  thinking  consciousness.  The  objects  of  perception 
or  of  thought  are  members  of  a group  and  replaceable  one 
by  the  other.  I see  things  common  to  every  man’s  vision, 
I think  thoughts  sharable  with  any  minds.  But  with  the 
objects  of  my  feeling,  as  with  those  of  my  will,  it  is  different. 
The  object  of  my  love  or  of  my  hate  is  unique,  and  not  to  be 
replaced  by  any  one,  however  similar.  I envy  or  pity  this 
man,  this  child ; I am  thrilled  with  the  beauty  of  this  sunset ; 
I feel  myself  as  individual  in  relation  to  this  other  individual. 
In  a word,  no  one  — however  similar  — can  take  the  place 
of  the  particular  and  unique  object  of  my  emotion  or  will. 
The  essence  of  individuality  is  evidently,  then,  uniqueness, 
the  character  of  being  irreplaceable.  And  the  problem  of  the 
compatibility  of  human  personality  with  the  absoluteness  of 
the  One  Self  reduces  to  this : does  the  existence  of  the  ab- 
solute self  permit  or  preclude  the  existence  of  unique  partial 
selves  ? 

The  monist  undertakes  to  show  that  the  existence  of  the 
absolute  self  not  merely  permits,  but  requires,  the  existence 
of  unique,  included,  human  selves.  The  proof  is  the  follow- 
ing : It  has  been  shown  already  that  the  absolute  self,  if  he 
exist,  must  be  like  human  selves.  Therefore,  the  absolute 
self  must  possess  the  individualizing  consciousness,  and  his 
absoluteness  must  not  thereby  be  lessened.  Now  the  abso- 
luteness of  the  self  is  not  derogated  from,  the  monist  insists, 
by  the  existence  of  lesser  selves  within  himself.  In  fact, 

1 Taylor,  and  Royce  (in  certain  passages,  not  in  others),  seem  to  the  writer 
unduly  to  limit  the  conception  of  individuality  by  identifying  it  exclusively 
with  will  and  purpose.  (Cf.  Taylor,  op.  cit.,  pp.  57,  98;  Royce,  “Concep- 
tion of  God,”  1902,  pp.  222,  268  seq.)  The  unique,  however,  is  object  of 
emotion  as  well  as  of  will. 


Monistic  Personal  Idealism 


439 


the  absolute  self-consciousness  would  be  less  rich  and  com- 
plete — which  is  impossible  — than  the  human  conscious- 
ness, if  the  absolute  self  were  incapable  of  individualizing, 
of  distinguishing  through  personal  feeling  and  will,  the 
mutually  exclusive  parts  of  himself.  Thus  viewed,  the  exist- 
ence of  distinct  individuals,  each  representing  a different 
emotion  or  purpose  of  the  absolute  self,  is  not  merely  recon- 
cilable with  his  existence,  but  essential  to  the  completeness 
and  fulness  of  his  experience.  And  not  only  is  the  multi- 
plicity of  individuals  essential  to  the  Absolute,  but  the  exist- 
ence of  the  Absolute  is  necessary  to  insure  to  each  partial 
self  its  individuality.  For  individuality,  on  which  the  plural- 
ist lays  such  stress,  is  a shifting,  contradictory  affair  unless 
defined  from  the  standpoint  of  the  absolute  self.  A given 
human  being  is  this  to  one  of  his  friends  and  this  to  another 
and  still  a third  this  to  himself.  He  would  possess  no  one 
individuality  were  he  not,  fundamentally,  the  expression  of  the 
unique  individualizing  consciousness  of  the  absolute  self. 
Thus,  this  monistic  personalism  does  not  involve,  as  its  op- 
ponents assert,  the  loss  of  human  individuality.  You  and 
I,  so  far  from  being  swallowed  up  in  the  absolute  self,  so 
far  from  being  lost  or  engulfed  in  the  ultimate  I,  find  the 
guarantee  of  our  individual  reality  precisely  herein  that  we  are 
essential  and  unique  expressions  of  this  absolute  self.  It  is 
idle  to  raise  the  question,  might  the  absolute  self  have  existed 
without  me  — you  — him?  For  as  a matter  of  direct  ob- 
servation, I at  least  exist  in  relation  to  other-than-my- 
self.  Hence  the  absolute  self  is  a self  which  includes  this 
precise,  finite  self.  But  since  his  reality  is  absolute,  it  follows 
that  whatever  exists  is  expression  of  him.  Thus,  because  the 
Absolute  is  as  he  is,  I am  what  I am. 

In  the  end,  therefore,  we  reassert  the  monistic,  and  yet 
personalistic,  doctrine.  Ultimate  reality  is  absolute  self,  not 
a totality  of  related  conscious  selves,  but  a Self,  inclusive  of 
the  many  selves,  yet  characterized  by  a single  personality. 
The  absolute  self  is  conscious  of  himself,  as  I am  conscious 


44°  Contemporary  Philosophical  Systems 

of  myself ; but  whereas  I may  distinguish  myself  from  selves 
in  some  sense  beyond  me,  he  distinguishes  himself  only  from 
selves  in  some  sense  within  him.  Thus  he  at  once  shares  in 
the  experience  of  each  of  these  selves,  for  it  is  his  experience, 
and  yet  transcends  this  experience,  since  his  consciousness  is 
more  than  a sum  of  different  consciousnesses — since,  in  other 
words,  he  is  conscious  of  himself  as  unique,  as  individual. 
The  lesser  selves,  of  whom  I am  one,  are  thus  expressions, 
objects,  of  the  emotion  and  the  will  of  the  absolute  self; 
they  exist  because  he  has  a nature  such  that  it  must  express 
itself  in  these  unique  ways.  My  consciousness  is,  then, 
“identically  a part”  of  the  experience  of  the  absolute  self, 
“not  similar  . . . but  identically  the  same  as  such  portion,”1 
and  this  explains  why  I know  the  objects,  though  not  all  the 
objects,  which  the  absolute  self  knows.  My  distinction  from 
the  absolute  self  is,  in  part,  a purely  quantitative  difference, 
shown  in  the  fact  that  I do  not  know  so  much  as  he.  In 
part,  however,  it  is  the  difference  of  the  Absolute,  as  self,  as 
utterly  unique  personality,  from  any  one  of  the  totality  of  in- 
cluded selves.  From  this  difference,  it  follows  that  the  lesser 
self  does  not,  necessarily,  feel  and  will  with  the  Absolute; 
whereas  the  absolute  self,  besides  possessing  his  own,  the  ulti- 
mate, personality,  must  feel  and  will  with  every  partial  self. 

The  most  insistent  of  the  problems  of  monistic  personalism 
concern  themselves  with  the  relation  of  the  selves  — absolute 
and  partial  — to  time,  with  the  doctrine  of  human  freedom, 
and  with  the  question  of  immortality.  A brief  discussion 
of  these  great  subjects  will  conclude  this  chapter. 

(a)  The  relation  oj  absolute  selj  and  o)  partial  selves  to  time 

By  ‘temporal’  is  meant  that  which  exists  at  this  moment 
or  that.  But  a moment  is  precisely  that  which  has  both  past 
and  future.  There  is  then  neither  beginning  nor  end  of  time ; 
every  moment  is  what  it  is  by  virtue  of  its  relations  to  the  irrevo- 

1 Royce,  “Conception  of  God,”  p.  292s. 


Monistic  Personal  Idealism 


441 


cable  and  to  the  unattained.  Thus,  the  temporal  is  the  essen- 
tially incomplete ; and  because  of  this  incompleteness,  the 
Absolute  cannot  be  conceived  in  purely  temporal  terms.  On 
the  other  hand,  the  temporal  has  reality.  Temporal  dis- 
tinctions are  objects  of  actual  experience.  In  the  words  of 
Bergson  who,  most  vividly  among  contemporary  writers, 
emphasizes  the  reality  of  time,  “succession  is  an  incontest- 
able fact  . . . ce  n’est  plus  du  pense  c'est  du  vecu.”  1 Now 
the  absolutist  has  no  more  difficulty  than  any  other  thinker 
in  reconciling  the  alleged  contradictions  involved  in  infinite 
time  with  the  rationality  of  the  universe.  For  all  these  con- 
tradictions arise,  as  Bergson  so  brilliantly  shows,  in  the 
domain  of  abstract  time  — of  time  artificially  measured  and 
divided  — and  not  at  all  with  regard  to  concrete  time,  time 
as  experienced.2  But  the  personalistic  absolutist  seems  to 
face  a real  obstacle  in  attempting  to  reconcile  the  complete- 
ness of  the  absolute  self  with  the  reality  of  time.  Bergson, 
to  whom  ultimate  reality  consists  in  that  which  changes, 
does  not  feel  this  difficulty ; but  the  absolutist  cannot  avoid 
the  insistent  question  whether,  or  in  what  sense,  the  absolute 
consciousness  is  temporal.  To  this  question  he  may,  how- 
ever, give  the  following  answer : It  follows  from  the  analysis, 
already  made,  of  the  absolute  self-consciousness,  that  the 
absolute  self  must  experience  the  elemental  sorts  of  con- 
sciousness, involved  in  the  time  consciousness,  since  human 
selves  do  have  the  consciousness  of  time,  and  since  He 
experiences  that  which  we  experience.  Human  life,  as  our 
modern  teachers  insist,  is  movement,  progress,  unending 
struggle.  In  Eucken’s  words,  the  very  “soul  of  life  is  self- 
conquest through  struggle  (Selbster  ringed) .”  3 But  movement 
and  struggle  are  temporal  processes.  The  absolute  self 
must  therefore  be  conceived  as  temporally  conscious,  that  is, 
as  participating  in  the  consciousness  of  the  connection  of  the 

1 “Involution  creatrice,”  edition  of  1908,  p.  10. 

2 Ibid.,  pp.  10,  49.  Cf.  “Les  donnees  immediates  de  la  conscience,” 
Chapter  II.  It  is  doubtful  whether  Bergson’s  term  ‘duration’  adequately 
describes  what  he  means  by  concrete,  or  real,  time. 

3 “Grundlinien  einer  neuen  Lebensanschauung,”  pp.  128,  132,  169,  210. 


442  Contemporary  Philosophical  Systems 

irrevocable  with  the  unattained.  More  closely  analyzed  this 
time-consciousness  includes  both  a relational  factor,  the  con- 
sciousness of  connected  terms,  and  the  affective  experience, 
yearning,  hope,  regret,  or  relief,  inherent  in  the  consciousness 
of  the  unattained  or  of  the  irrevocable.  Possibly  it  contains 
also  a sui  generis  elemental  consciousness.  These  experiences, 
as  actual,  must  belong  to  the  absolute  reality,  the  One  Self. 

But  the  absolute  consciousness,  though  it  must  indeed  in- 
clude the  temporal  experience,  cannot  be  merely  temporal. 
The  absolute  self  must,  in  other  words,  have  both  a deeper- 
than-temporal  and  a temporal  consciousness,  since  by  itself 
the  temporal  involves  incompleteness.  The  possibility  that 
one  and  the  same  self  may  possess  both  sorts  of  consciousness 
cannot  be  denied,  for  even  the  human  self  does  not  simply 
experience  temporal  succession : it  has  also  more-than-tem- 
poral  consciousness.  There  are  at  least  three  readily  recog- 
nized examples  of  the  more-than-temporal  experience.  Most 
fundamental  of  all  is  the  consciousness,  especially  the  emo- 
tional consciousness,  of  other  selves.  In  loving  and  hating, 
in  admiring  and  despising,  we  are  conscious  of  ourselves  and 
of  other  selves,  not  only,  and  not  primarily,  as  continuous 
series  of  psychic  events  or  even  as  beings  developing  in  time, 
but  without  reference  to  time  as  unitary  selves.  Another 
example  of  the  more-than-temporal  experience  of  every  human 
self  is  the  consciousness  of  identity,  the  oneness  which  con- 
tradicts temporal  discreteness.  Thus,  when  I say,  “This  is 
the  same  song  which  I yesterday  heard,”  I surely  transcend 
the  temporal  difference  between  to-day’s  and  yesterday’s 
experience.  And,  finally,  there  is  the  more-than-temporal 
experience  which  Royce  has  so  subtly  and  elaborately  dis- 
sected : the  consciousness  of  the  sequence,  of  the  melody,  or 
of  the  sentence,  for  example,  not  as  a series,  but  as  a complete 
whole.  “A  succession,”  he  observes,  . involves  a 

certain  . . . relation  amongst  the  events  that  make  up  the 
succession.  . . . Each  one  of  them  is  over  and  past  when 
the  next  one  comes.  . . . But  side  by  side  with  this  aspect 


Monistic  Personal  Idealism  443 

of  the  temporal  order,  . . . stands  still  another  aspect.  . . . 
When  we  more  directly  experience  succession,  — as  for  in- 
stance when  we  listen  ...  to  a rhythmic  series  of  drum- 
beats, — we  not  only  observe  that  any  antecedent  member 
of  the  series  is  over  and  past  before  the  next  number  comes, 
but  also,  and  without  the  least  contradiction  between  these 
two  aspects  of  our  total  experience,  we  observe  that  this  whole 
succession,  with  both  its  former  and  later  members,  so  far 
as  with  relative  directness  we  apprehend  the  series  of  drum- 
beats or  of  other  simple  events,  is  present  at  once  to  our  con- 
sciousness. ...  It  is  . . . true  that  for  my  consciousness  b 
is  experienced  as  following  a , and  also  that  a and  b are  together 
experienced  as  this  relation  of  sequence.  . . . This  essen- 
tially double  aspect  of  every  experience  of  a present  series  of 
events  ...  is  a matter  of  . . . fundamental  importance.”  1 
But  at  this  point  an  objection  will  be  offered  to  this  doc- 
trine that  the  absolute,  like  the  human,  self  is  not  only  supra- 
temporally,  but  also  temporally,  conscious.  It  will  be  urged 
that  the  Absolute,  as  absolute,  is  incapable  of  sharing  human 
hope,  yearning,  and  regret,  since  the  very  core  and  centre  of 
these  experiences  is  their  partialness.  Only  in  so  far  as  a 
self  is  limited,  relative,  partial,  can  it  be  in  hope  or  in  fear; 
for  how,  it  is  asked,  if  it  realized  all,  and  itself  constituted 
all  reality,  could  it  waver,  yearn,  or  regret?  The  answer  is 
once  more  by  reference  to  the  everyday  experience  of  each  one 
of  us.  Who  that  really  loves  a child  — if  only  that  which 
Plato  calls  the  child  within  a man  — does  not  know  what  it 
is  to  share,  in  a true  sense,  the  bewilderment,  the  foreboding, 
the  baseless  hope  due  to  childish  ignorance,  while  yet  one  is, 
as  adult  self,  unperplexed,  confident,  and  courageous  ? My 
heart  aches  or  yearns  or  beats  high  with  his,  and  yet  I am 
all  the  time  possessed  of  a deeper,  correcting,  supplementing 
consciousness.  Even  so,  we  have  the  right  to  suppose,  the 
absolute  self  may  share  the  experiences,  essentially  incom- 


1 “The  World  and  the  Individual,”  II.,  Lecture  III.,  pp.  114s  seq. 


444  Contemporary  Philosophical  Systems 

plete,  of  yearning  for  the  unattained  and  of  contemplating 
the  irrevocable,  holding  them  as  real,  though  subordinated, 
elements  in  that  ever  complete  consciousness  of  the  self  which 
is  all  reality.  Such  a view,  it  must  carefully  be  noted,  does 
not  invalidate  the  teaching  that  the  absolute  self  must  feel 
pain.  For  the  Absolute,  as  complete  consciousness,  must 
indeed  share  in  my  pain,  since  that  is  an  elemental  sort  of 
experience.  And  yet  the  pain,  which  for  me  is  an  uncontra- 
dicted element  of  a doubting  or  despairing  mood,  is  for  him 
the  factor  of  doubt  or  despair  comprehended,  and  so  trans- 
muted into  assurance  or  victory.  The  absolute  self  is  thus 
conscious  of  the  universe  both  after  the  temporal  fashion 
and  as  a complete,  that  is,  a non-temporal,  whole.  In  Royce’s 
words:  “The  larger  consciousness  does  not  lose  the  con- 
scious incompleteness  of  the  lesser,  but  gives  that,  just  as  it 
is,  its  place  in  the  completed  whole.”  1 The  antithesis  be- 
tween the  temporal  and  the  eternal,  in  the  fullest  sense  of 
that  term,  is  thus  the  contrast  between  the  point  of  view 
which  divides  events  into  “ what  now  is  and  what  no  longer 
is,  — what  is  to  be  but  is  not  yet,”  and  the  standpoint  from 
which  “ these  same  events  ...  in  so  far  as  they  are  viewed 
at  once  by  the  Absolute,  are  for  such  view  all  equally  present.” 
There  is  a curious  approximation  to  this  doctrine  in  the 
teaching,  already  referred  to,  of  Mr.  Schiller.  He  con- 
ceives of  “ a state  of  perfect  adaptation  ” of  the  finite  con- 
sciousness in  which  “there  would  be  no  consciousness  of 
change.  ...  In  such  a state  of  perfection,”  Schiller  adds, 
“Time  would  be  transcended.”  For  eternity,  in  this  positive 
sense,  Schiller,  in  another  book,  appropriates  a term  used 
by  Aristotle  in  a slightly  different  connection,  Kivr]Gi<i  aiavrj- 
changeless  activity;  instancing  as  ‘example’  of  it  ‘the 
state  of  perfected  absorbed  attention.’  “Could  we  once 
attain,”  he  exclaims,  “an  object  of  contemplation  which 
was  wholly  satisfying,  should  we  not  seek  to  retain  it  in 


1 Op.  cit.,  p.  300. 


Monistic  Personal  Idealism  445 

consciousness  forever?”1  The  likeness  of  this  doctrine  to 
that  already  outlined  need  hardly  be  pointed  out;  and  the 
theory  of  the  transcended  time-consciousness  wins  a certain 
confirmation  through  the  fact  that  it  is  espoused  by  think- 
ers so  antagonistic.  Like  Royce,  the  monist,  Schiller,  the 
pluralist,  teaches  that  time,  spite  of  its  partial  reality,  is 
not  all-of-reality ; and  that  eternity  is  a transcendence  of 
time.  Moreover,  the  pluralist  description  of  time  as  perfect 
adaptation,  and  still  more  the  conception  of  this  adaptation 
as  absorbed  attention,  is  thoroughly  compatible  with  the 
doctrine  of  the  eternal  as  that  which  is  conscious-at-once  of 
the  whole.2  In  addition,  monistic  doctrine  distinguishes, 
though  it  also  allies,  the  absolute  and  the  human  conscious- 
ness of  temporal  and  eternal.  “ The  presence  in  this 
sense,”  Royce  says,  “of  all  time  at  once  to  the  Absolute 
constitutes  the  Eternal  order  of  the  world  — eternal,  since 
it  is  inclusive  of  all  distinctions  of  temporal  past  and  tem- 
poral future,  — eternal,  since,  for  this  very  reason,  the 
totality  of  temporal  events  thus  present  at  once  to  the  Abso- 
lute, has  no  events  that  precede  or  that  follow  it,  but 
contains  all  sequences  within  it,  — eternal,  finally,  be- 
cause this  view  of  the  world  does  not,  like  our  partial 
glimpses  of  this  or  of  that  relative  whole  of  sequence,  pass 
away  and  give  place  to  some  other  view,  but  includes  an 
observation  of  every  passing  away,  of  every  sequence  . . ., 
and  includes  all  the  views  that  are  taken  by  the  various 
finite  Selves.”  3 And  yet,  though  the  eternal  order  in  its 
fullest  sense  can  be  known  to  the  absolute  self  only,  we 
human  selves  also  share,  though  partially,  in  the  more-than- 
temporal  consciousness.  “ To  conceive  in  what  sense  the 
temporal  order  of  the  world  is  also  an  eternal  order,  we 

1 “Humanism,”  Chapter  XII.,  p.  217. 

2 After  teaching  the  reality  of  time,  and  after  insisting  that  eternity 
transcends  time  and  forms  its  ideal,  Schiller  inconsistently  makes  eternity 
part  of  the  temporal  order,  teaching  that  time  began  in  eternity  and  is 
likely  to  end  there.  (“  Riddles  of  the  Sphinx,”  Chapter  IX.,  § n.) 

3 Op-  cti p.  141. 


446  Contemporary  Philosophical  Systems 

have,  therefore,”  Royce  declares,  “ but  to  remember  the 
sense  in  which  the  melody,  or  other  sequence,  is  known  at 
once  to  our  own  consciousness,  despite  the  fact  that  its 
elements  when  viewed  merely  in  their  temporal  succession  are 
in  so  far  not  at  once.  . . . The  brief  span  of  our  con- 
sciousness, the  small  range  of  succession,  that  we  can 
grasp  at  once,  constitutes  a perfectly  arbitrary  limitation  of 
our  own  special  type  of  consciousness.  But  in  principle  a 
time-sequence,  however  brief,  is  already  viewed  in  a way 
that  is  not  merely  temporal,  when  ...  it  is  grasped  at 
once.1  ...  A consciousness  related  to  the  whole  of  the 
world’s  events  . . . precisely  as  our  human  consciousness 
is  related  to  a single  melody  or  rhythm,”  — a consciousness, 
it  might  be  added,  related  to  all  human  selves,  as  our  human 
consciousness  is  related  to  any  one  self,  which  it  regards 
both  as  developing  life  and  as  unitary  being  — such  a con- 
sciousness “.  . . is  an  Eternal  Consciousness.”  2 

(b)  The  freedom  of  the  finite  self  as  related  to  the  absolute- 
ness of  the  absolute  self 

Most  difficult  of  all  the  problems  which  confront  monistic 
personalism  is  the  need  of  harmonizing  with  it  the  insistent 
claims  of  human  freedom  of  choice.  In  calling  a self  free 
in  this  sense,  one  means  that  a self  is,  to  some  degree,  self- 
directive, that  it  has  real  choice ; in  other  words,  that  a self 
may,  independently  of  outside  influence,  be  conscious  in 
this  way  or  in  another,  — that  it  may  be,  at  will,  happy  or  un- 
happy, humble  or  imperious,  good  or  bad.3 

1 At  this  point,  Royce  adds  the  words : “ and  is  thus  grasped  not  through 
mere  memory  but  by  virtue  of  actual  experience.”  As  I have  said,  in  the 
footnote  on  p.  435,  the  antithesis  between  memory  and  actual  experience 
seems  to  me  unfortunate.  It  is  rather  true  that  experience  includes  mem- 
ory. Moreover,  the  argument  would  be  unaffected  if  it  were  held  that  the 
sequence  is  grasped  by  memory,  and  yet  apprehended  at  once. 

2 Op.  cit.,  pp.  i4i2-i42*. 

3 It  is  perhaps  unnecessary  to  remind  the  reader  that  this  is  by  no  man- 
ner of  means  the  only  sense  in  which  a self  may  be  called  ‘free.’  It  is  free, 


Monistic  Personal  Idealism 


447 


The  pluralistic  personalist  is  wont  to  assert  with  great 
vigor  the  reality  of  human  freedom.  To  do  this  he  has  first 
to  rescue  the  doctrine  from  the  attacks  of  scientific  determin- 
ism. This  form  of  determinism  denies  human  freedom  on 
the  ground  that  freedom  is  incompatible  with  the  universality 
of  the  causal  law.  The  causal  law,  as  applied  by  natural 
science,  is  the  teaching  that  succeeding  events  are  connected 
by  a uniform  necessity ; in  other  words,  that  they  are  connected 
in  a relation  such  that  on  the  repetition  of  event  a,  event  b 
uniformly  recurs.  And  it  is  urged  by  scientific  determinists 
that  to  conceive  of  several  sorts  of  conscious  experience  as, 
at  one  and  the  same  time,  genuinely  possible  is  to  annul  the 
principle  of  uniformity,  inherent  in  the  law  of  causality.  In 
meeting  this  objection,  personal  idealists  (monists  as  well 
as  pluralists)  must,  I think,  admit  that  the  doctrine  of  hu- 
man freedom  restricts  the  application  of  the  causal  law,  by 
denying  the  absolute  uniformity  of  causal  connection.  But 
the  personalist  thinker  will  rightly  refuse  to  regard  this  as 
a decisive  objection  to  the  doctrine  of  freedom.  For,  as 
Hume  and  Kant  have  shown,  the  law  of  causality  is  a form 
of  self-consciousness,  its  necessity  is  a necessity  of  thinking; 
its  reality  is,  therefore,  that  of  the  self  or  selves  whose  con- 
sciousness it  helps  to  constitute.  It  cannot  then  be  used,  like  a 
boomerang,  to  weaken  our  confidence  in  the  existence  of  any 
directly  known  or  rightly  inferred  character  of  the  self.1  More 
than  this : in  the  opinion  of  the  writer,  the  absolute  uniform- 
ity involved  in  the  causal  relation,  so  far  from  being  demon- 
strable, is,  at  best,  probable  on  the  ground  of  repeated  ex- 
perience. There  is,  for  example,  no  a priori  reason  why  the 
contact  of  the  charged  wires  should  uniformly  be  followed 
by  the  spark.  So  conceived,  the  causal  principle  has  only 
the  force  of  a very  wide  generalization,1  applicable  particu- 
larly to  external  phenomena,  that  is,  to  shared  percepts  — 

also,  in  so  far  as  it  is  self  and  not  mere  temporal  phenomenon.  Cf.  supra, 
Chapter  7,  pp.  257  seq. 

1 Cf.  Bergson,  “Involution  cr6atrice,”  pp.  31  seq.,  47  seq.;  “Les  donnees 
immediates,”  Chapter  III.;  Huxley,  “Collected  Essays,”  I. 


448  Contemporary  Philosophical  Systems 

a domain  of  experience  into  which,  it  may  well  be  observed, 
the  human  will  seldom  enters  as  a factor.  And  the  fact  that 
we  habitually  and  reasonably  look  for  uniformity,  especially 
in  this  sphere  of  the  external,  does  not  prejudice  the  possi- 
bility of  freedom  of  choice  — ■ does  not,  in  other  words,  for- 
bid the  possibility  that  at  a given  moment  this  or  that  may 
happen.  The  principle  of  uniformity  is  regarded  in  this 
way,  by  consistent  personalists,  as  an  hypothesis  either  of 
universal,  or  else  of  very  wide,  application  to  the  facts  of  the 
physical  world  — in  a word,  as  scientific  law  and  as  a basis 
for  our  expectation  of  future  happenings.  But  it  is  freely 
admitted  that  the  principle  of  uniformity  has  the  force  only 
of  a large  and  useful  empirical  generalization.  There- 
fore the  opposition  between  the  causal  law  and  the  concep- 
tion of  freedom  is  not  sufficient  to  disprove  the  reality  of 
freedom. 

The  pluralist,  as  we  have  seen,  asserts  the  existence  of 
human  freedom,  thus  defended,  and  insists  that  the  exist- 
ence of  the  absolute  self  is  incompatible  with  the  reality  of 
human  freedom.  Granting  the  existence  of  the  absolute  self, 
he  urges,  no  freedom,  no  alternative,  would  remain  to  the 
finite  selves  who  are  but  expressions,  manifestations,  of  the 
Absolutely  Real,  channels  through  which  its  reality  flows. 
No  longer,  the  pluralist  insists,  can  the  monist  conceive  of  a 
human  self  as  being,  at  this  moment,  glad  or  sorry,  good  or 
bad ; the  consciousness  of  this  self-direction,  possible  choice, 
or  freedom,  is  a pure  illusion  due  to  our  imperfect  recogni- 
tion of  our  source.  In  truth,  we  must  feel  and  will — no  less 
than  perceive  — in  accordance  with  the  One  Will.  This,  then, 
is  the  issue : either  the  assertion  of  human  freedom  or  ab- 
solutist personalism,  either  the  doctrine  of  human  selves  pos- 
sessed of  true  alternative  or  the  doctrine  of  selves  as  deter- 
mined expressions  of  the  One  Self.  If  the  alternative  is 
indeed  unavoidable,  then  either  human  freedom  must  be 
denied,  or  we  must  admit  an  unnoticed  flaw  in  those  argu- 
ments which  have  led  to  monistic  personalism.  These 


Monistic  Personal  Idealism 


449 


arguments  are  so  recently  outlined  that  they  need  not  here 
be  reviewed.  The  considerations  tending  to  establish 
human  freedom  should,  on  the  other  hand,  be  briefly 
restated.1  They  reduce  to  two : first,  that  we  are  often 
conscious  of  freedom,  that  we  seem  to  ourselves  free  to 
will  thus  or  thus ; second,  the  alleged  implication  of  freedom 
in  the  moral  consciousness. 

The  first  of  these  arguments  starts  from  the  normal  human 
self’s  instinctive  belief  that  he  is  free.  Experience  of  one 
sort  or  another  may  bring  me  to  the  point  of  denying  my 
freedom,  but  primitively  I believe  myself  to  control,  to 
some  degree,  my  own  consciousness.  It  may  be  questioned, 
however,  whether  this  is  a sufficient  ground  for  regarding 
freedom  after  Eucken’s  and  Bergson’s  fashion  as  “an  unde- 
niable fact  of  experience.”  1 That  a majority  of  human 
beings  have  a feeling  of  freedom  may  well  be  admitted. 
But  a finite  being  might  be  dependent  without  being  con- 
scious of  dependence ; it  might,  in  its  imperfectness,  ascribe 
to  its  own  narrow  self  a power  greater  than  it  possessed.  Its 
consciousness  of  freedom,  then,  though  actual,  would  not  be 
ultimately  real  — would  not  conform  to  the  whole  constitu- 
tion of  reality.  Such  a self  would  err,  like  the  supposed 
cannon-ball  which,  coming  to  consciousness  in  mid-air,  attrib- 
uted to  itself  the  power  which  actually  originated  in  the 
cannon. 

More  important  is  the  argument  for  freedom  from  the  ex- 
istence of  the  moral  consciousness.  I have,  so  the  argument 
should  run,  the  consciousness  of  obligation,  the  conviction 
that  “I  ought.”  This  is  a feeling  quite  distinct  from  every 
mere  expeditur  — every  belief  that  “I  would  better  act  thus 
or  thus.”  Its  uniqueness  constitutes  the  very  inner  core  of 
such  characteristic  experiences  as  those  of  remorse  and  of 
self-respect.  Now,  second,  if  the  feeling  of  obligation  be 
not  also  an  illusion  of  consciousness,  it  implies  moral  freedom. 


1 Cf.  Eucken,  “ Grundlinien  einer  neuen  Lebensanschauung,”  p.  147. 


450  Contemporary  Philosophical  Systems 

It  is,  then,  true  that  I can  if  I ought ; it  is  certain  that  I may 
espouse  either  good  or  evil,  if  it  is  true  that  I am  rightly 
praised  for  the  one  choice  and  blamed  for  the  other  — in  a 
word,  if  it  is  true  that  I ought  to  choose  the  good.  Once 
more,  then,  the  decision  turns  on  the  question  whether  an 
experience  be  illusory  or  true.  Evidently  the  answer  to 
this  question  cannot  be  given  on  the  basis  of  direct  obser- 
vation. Nobody,  indeed,  can  feel  obligation  without  feeling 
it  as  real;  the  mere  conviction  that  my  feeling  adequately 
represents  the  real  nature  of  the  universe  is,  as  has  just  been 
admitted,  no  demonstration  that  it  is  real.  But  certain  con- 
siderations about  the  nature  of  the  absolute  self  tend  to  con- 
firm the  individual  persuasion  of  freedom.  To  a complete 
self-consciousness,  it  was  shown,1  belong  emotional  and 
volitional  phases.  A complete  self  loves,  pities,  wills.  But 
both  emotional  and  voluntary  consciousness  individualize 
their  objects ; there  seems,  then,  an  inherent  reason  why  the 
absolute  self  should  individualize  its  own  self-expressions. 
And,  in  the  second  place,  if  the  absolute  self  be  conceived  as 
good,  it  may  be  urged  that  it  is  inconsistent  with  such  good- 
ness that  the  finite  selves  be  deceived  on  precisely  this  point 
of  their  moral  obligation.  This  is,  of  course,  in  principle, 
Descartes’s  argument  against  God’s  deceitfulness.  Ob- 
viously, it  offers  tempting  openings  to  unwarranted  anthro- 
pomorphism, and  to  unduly  individual  interpretation  of  the 
Absolute,  yet  (though,  for  these  reasons  no  great  stress  may 
be  laid  on  it)  as  a supplementary  consideration  it  may  carry 
weight. 

So  far  as  has  to  this  point  appeared,  the  doctrine  of  human 
freedom  of  choice  has  not  established  itself.  In  other  words, 
no  consideration  has  compelled  the  recognition  of  human 
freedom  in  this  sense.  In  the  issue  between  the  truth  of 
human  freedom  and  the  existence  of  the  absolute  self,  he  who 
has  found  reason  to  accept  the  reality  of  the  Absolute  cannot 


> Cf.  supra,  pp.  427  stq. 


Monistic  Personal  Idealism  451 

yield  this  conviction  in  favor  of  the  claims  of  the  freedom 
of  the  human  self.  From  this  point  of  view  there  is,  in 
truth,  but  one  possibility  of  human  freedom.  If  the  free- 
dom of  the  lesser  self  is  willed  by  the  Absolute,  then  — 
and  only  then  — is  the  lesser  self  free.  To  such  a concep- 
tion there  is,  however,  a ready  and  serious  objection : 
For  how,  the  objector  asks,  can  the  Absolute  be  supposed 
to  will  my  freedom  to  choose  what  He  does  not  will  ? The 
following  paragraphs  are  submitted  as  a contribution  to  the 
discussion  of  this  great  problem. 

(1)  The  purpose  of  the  human  self  in  opposition  to  the 
absolute  will  should,  of  course,  be  conceived  as  opposed 
to  His  specific  and  not  to  His  inclusive  purpose.  In  other 
words,  the  human  self  is  partially  and  not  completely  free ; 
his  opposition  to  absolute  will  is  futile;  his  temporarily 
rebellious  will  is  a factor,  not  in  itself  but  as  balanced  by 
other  factors,  in  the  full  expression  of  the  complex  purpose 
of  the  absolute  self.  More  concretely  stated : I,  as  unique 
self,  am  object  of  the  will  of  the  Absolute.  But  if  He 
purposes  precisely  my  freedom,  then  it  follows  that  specific 
acts  and  momentary  choices  may  be  in  opposition  to  what 
would  have  been  His  purpose  if  He  had  willed  a world 
without  me  in  it.  We  may  best  understand  this  by  re- 
course to  a human  analogy.  The  wise  teacher  chooses 
that  his  pupil  shall  become  an  independent  thinker.  To 
this  end  he  wills  that  the  student  shall  make  experiments 
and  sift  evidence  for  himself.  But  this  means  that  the 
teacher  wills  his  pupil’s  very  errors,  not  in  themselves  but 
as  temporary  factors  of  the  capacity  for  independence. 
(2)  To  this  attempted  reconciliation  between  absolutism 
and  the  doctrine  of  freedom  it  will  however  be  objected 
that  the  analogy  is  misleading.  For,  from  the  absolutist 
standpoint,  a human  purpose,  like  everything  else,  is  real 
only  by  being  object  of  the  absolute  experience  and  there- 
fore, it  may  be  urged,  every  human  purpose  is  ipso  facto 
a purpose  of  the  Absolute,  and  there  can  be  no  will  which 


452  Contemporary  Philosophical  Systems 

is,  in  any  sense,  opposed  to  His.  This  is  a very  important 
objection  and  indeed  many  writers  deny  that  it  can  really  be 
met.  Let  the  following  consideration  suggest  the  possibil- 
ity, if  it  does  not  demonstrate  the  necessity,  of  reconciling 
limited  human  freedom  with  absolute  will.  The  absolute 
self,  though  He  unquestionably  experiences  all  that  I experi- 
ence, none  the  less  opposes  some  of  the  objects  of  my  will. 
All  realities,  my  free  choices  included,  are  objects  of  the 
Absolute’s  consciousness  — are  real,  indeed,  only  as  experi- 
enced by  Him.  But  in  so  far  as  He  has  willed  me  to  be  free 
there  must,  or  may,  be  partial  phases  of  reality  which  He 
opposes.  If,  for  example,  I choose,  in  opposition  to  the 
absolute  will,  to  commit  a theft,  this  very  volition  of  mine  is 
a part  of  the  absolute  experience,  else  it  has  no  reality,  yet 
the  absolute  self  though  conscious  of  it  opposes  it. 

To  this  conception  it  will  be  objected  (a)  that  by  experi- 
encing what  He  opposes  the  absolute  self  would  become 
passive.  In  reply  it  may,  with  some  confidence,  be  sug- 
gested that  though  the  Absolute  must  be  fundamentally 
active,  He  yet  may  be  conceived  as  willing  his  own  partial 
passivity.  Such  a relation  of  self-activity  to  passivity, 
though  it  seems  paradoxical,  is  psychologically  possible. 
Thus,  suffering  is  a passivity,  but  I may  cling  to  the  very 
agony  of  my  yearning  for  one  who  has  gone  from  me. 

But  the  objector  will  return  (b)  with  reiterated  emphasis 
to  his  first  position.  The  absolute  self,  he  will  insist,  can- 
not in  this  fashion  be  conceived  as  opposing  and  still  willing 
the  finite  self’s  rebellious  purpose.  For,  by  hypothesis, 
the  finite  self’s  very  rebellious  purpose  exists  only  as  part 
of  the  absolute  self’s  consciousness,  or  — to  put  this  in 
another  way  — the  finite  self  exists  only  by  virtue  of  form- 
ing an  identical  part  of  the  Absolute.  How  then  can  the 
finite  self  be  supposed  to  will  anything  in  opposition  to 
the  absolute  will  ? To  this  question  the  following  reply 
may  be  suggested : The  finite  self,  it  will  be  reasserted, 
does  form  an  identical  part  of  the  Absolute  Self.  The 


Monistic  Personal  Idealism 


453 


absolute  self,  therefore,  experiences  all  that  the  lesser  self 
experiences  in  its  rebellious  will  — all  its  sensational  and 
affective  consciousness,  all  its  imperious  and  combative 
‘attitudes.’  More  than  this:  the  absolute  self,  in  willing 
the  finite  self  as  he  actually  is,  wills  precisely  this  rebellious 
volition.  But  the  Absolute  wills  the  rebellious  volition 
not,  as  the  lesser  self  wills  it,  in  isolation  and  out  of  relation 
to  the  whole,  but  as  part  of  a universe  which  includes, 
also,  such  other  purposes  and  fulfilments  as  balance  or  (in 
Royce’s  fine  phrase)  ‘ atone  for  ’ this  rebellious  volition  and 
its  outcome.1  Thus,  the  rebellious  purpose  of  the  finite  self, 
though  indeed  experienced  and  willed  by  the  Absolute, 
differs  from  the  Absolute’s  purpose  by  the  essential  differ- 
ence between  part  and  whole;  and  Absolute  Will  differs 
from  partial  will  merely,  but  significantly,  by  transcending 
it.  The  distinction  may  once  more  be  compared  to  that 
between  the  circle  and  the  sector.  The  circle  unquestion- 
ably possesses  all  the  qualities  of  a sector  — excepting  that 
of  not-being-a-complete-circle.  Such  a difference,  inherent 
in  the  very  natures  of  ‘part’  and  ‘whole,’  certainly  cannot 
invalidate  their  genuine  qualitative  identity.  Absolute 
Will  differs  from  human  will  not  in  what  it  lacks  but  in 
what  it  adds. 


(c)  Immortal  moral  selves  and  nature-selves 

The  eager  effort  to  attain  a philosophical  demonstration 
of  human  immortality  is  neither  unnatural  nor  unjustified. 
For  philosophy,  as  cannot  too  often  be  said,  is  an  aspect  or 
part  of  life,  and  it  follows  that  nothing  may  be  hoped  which 
may  not  also  be  thought.  The  problem  is,  at  this  stage  of 
our  thought,  the  following : does  or  does  not  monistic 
personal  idealism  require  the  endless  existence  of  the  partial 
selves  — does  this  monistic  personalism  at  least  guarantee 

1 “The  Problem  of  Christianity,”  I.,  Lecture  V. 


454  Contemporary  Philosophical  Systems 

the  existence  of  the  human  self  after  the  event  which  we  call 
death? 

It  is  at  once  evident  that  our  philosophy,  in  the  words  — 
often  quoted  — of  McTaggart,  “gives  us  hope.”  This  it 
does,  in  so  far  as  it  is  a form  of  immaterialism,  by  delivering 
us  from  the  fear  of  death  regarded  as  the  victory  of  matter 
over  spirit.  The  proof  that  matter  is  phenomenal,  that  the 
body  to  which  change  comes  is  but  a complex  of  ideal  quali- 
ties, that  the  dissolution  of  the  body  need  therefore  mean  no 
more  than  the  loss  of  a familiar  percept  common  to  a group 
of  selves  — all  these  deductions  from  idealistic  doctrine 
meet  the  most  common  objection  to  the  conviction  of  immor- 
tality. The  personalistic  form  of  idealism  adds  a positive 
consideration  in  favor  of  the  doctrine.  The  conclusion  that 
ultimate  reality  is  not  merely  ideal,  but  personal,  cannot  fail, 
by  its  emphasis  on  the  truth  of  personality,  at  the  least  to 
quicken  the  hope  of  immortality. 

We  are,  however,  immediately  concerned  with  the 
bearing  on  the  immortality  problem  of  the  doctrine  of 
the  monistic  form  of  personal  idealism  — the  conception  of 
the  human  self  as  expression  of  the  Absolute.1  Most  plural- 
istic personalists  believe  it  impossible  to  combine  a philosophic 
conviction  of  immortality  with  a doctrine  of  the  absolute  self. 
The  conception  of  the  partial  selves  as  included  in  the  Ab- 
solute, as  mere  expressions  of  the  One  Self  — this  concep- 
tion, they  urge,  deprives  the  partial  selves  of  individuality;  it 
is  therefore  likely  that  these  mere  illusions  of  personality  will 
succumb  to  the  vicissitude  of  death.  Now  it  should  at  once 
be  recognized  that  it  is  abstractly  possible  to  conceive  an  ab- 
solute self  which  is  expressed  in  temporally  limited  forms  — 
in  selves  which  are  not  endowed  with  immortality.  For  the 
Absolute  has  been  admitted  to  be  temporal  as  well  as  supra- 
temporal,  therefore  he  might  conceivably  be  manifested  in 

1 Cf.,  throughout,  Royce,  “The  Conception  of  Immortality,”  and  “The 
World  and  the  Individual,”  II.,  pp.  444  seq. 


Monistic  Personal  Idealism 


455 


discontinuing  temporal  forms.  On  the  other  hand,  it  must 
be  insisted  that  the  Absolute  might  at  least  as  probably  ex- 
press himself  not  exclusively  in  temporally  limited  but  also 
in  temporally  endless  forms.  Unless,  then,  some  positive 
argument  inclines  us  in  one  way  or  in  another,  immortality 
will  remain,  from  the  point  of  view  of  this  philosophy,  an 
open  question.  But  such  a positive  consideration  is  not 
lacking;  it  is  discovered  through  a study  of  the  moral  con- 
sciousness. For  though  a man  may  not  directly  realize  him- 
self as  immortal,  yet  every  man  who  knows  himself  as  unique 
person  may  discover  also  that  as  such  he  is  possessed  of 
a specific  duty  — a duty  which  distinguishes  him  from  other 
selves,  a duty  which  is  his  own  particular  way  of  expressing 
the  Absolute.  Now  it  is  of  the  nature  of  duty  to  be  endless. 
There  is  no  such  thing  as  fulfilled  obligation,  for  every  achieve- 
ment of  duty  forges  a fresh  claim,  every  moral  conquest  is 
itself  the  call  to  a new  battle.  Not,  therefore,  on  the  ground 
that  the  absolute  self  could  express  himself  only  in  immortal 
partial  selves,  and  still  less  because  human  beings  yearn  for 
immortality,  but  because  there  are  human  beings  who  know 
themselves  as  embodiments  of  unique  duties,  and  because 
a duty  is  inherently  endless,  therefore  the  monistic  personalist 
may  hold  to  the  immortality  of  the  moral  self. 

This  admission  that  freedom  and  immortality  are  not 
inherent  characters  of  a self,  coupled  with  our  previous  de- 
cision that  all  reality  is  personal,  leads  to  the  assertion  of 
the  probable  existence  of  lesser  selves  expressing  the  tem- 
porary and  progressive  not  the  eternal  purposes  of  the 
Absolute.  Such  a conception  “does  away  with  the  distinc- 

1 The  conception  of  ‘ physical  nature  ’ here  suggested  (pampsychism)  is 
held  by  Royce  (“  The  World  and  the  Individual,”  esp.  Lecture  V.),  and  by 
Ward  (“The  Realm  of  Ends,”  esp.  Lecture  XII.).  The  two  differ  in  that 
Royce  affirms  and  Ward  denies  that  the  finite  selves  are,  one  and  all,  mani- 
festations of  an  Absolute.  Another  idealistic  view  of  Nature,  that  of  Berke- 
ley, refuses  to  attribute  personality  to  inorganic  nature,  regarding  it  rather 
as  uncentred,  as  experienced  not  experiencer,  a psychic  object  common  to 
several  subjects.  Bosanquet  seems  to  formulate  an  absolutistic  idealism  of 
this  type  (“The  Principle  of  Individuality  and  Value,”  Lecture  X.). 


456  Contemporary  Philosophical  Systems 

tion  between  persons  and  things  altogether.”  For  there 
well  may  be  many  different  orders  of  these  selves  — selves 
of  merely  momentary  sensational  and  affective  experience, 
selves  with  limited  memory,  even  perhaps  selves  with  re- 
stricted foresight  and  narrow  purposes.  But  so  long  as 
such  partial  selves  are  devoid,  each  one,  of  a life-ideal,  a 
genuinely  moral  purpose,  they  have  no  claim  on  immortal- 
ity, are  not — in  the  fullest  sense — human  selves.  What  we 
call  physical  nature  may  well  be  constituted,  as  Leibniz 
and  Fechner  have  taught,  by  these  partial  selves,  in  their 
divers  kinds  below  the  level  of  humanity.  They  differ 
from  us  so  widely  that  we  can  not  definitely  designate 
them.  We  can  not,  for  example,  speak  with  assurance  of 
tree-self,  stream-self,  or  rock-self.  For  our  complex  experi- 
ence— the  tree,  stream,  or  rock-experience  — may  conceiv- 
ably not  be  shared  with  a particular  subject-self,  but  may 
rather  indicate  a mere  fragment  of  self  or  else  a multitude 
of  lesser  selves.  In  more  concrete  terms : Whereas  by 
analogy  with  our  own  bodies  we  can  with  reasonable  assur- 
ance identify  a human  body,  that  is,  the  complex  sense 
experience  which  signalizes  for  us  the  existence  of  another 
human  self,  we  lack  exact  acquaintance  with  the  bodies  of 
other-than-human  selves.  And  we  are  not  only  ignorant 
of  the  precise  nature  and  extent  of  these  lesser  selves,  but 
are  unable  to  share  their  experience  in  any  verifiable  way. 
In  Royce’s  telling  phrase,  physical  nature,  though  not  un- 
conscious, is  uncommunicative. 

A discussion  of  the  problems  suggested  by  this  view  of 
Nature  would  lead  us  much  too  far  afield.  We  have  ended 
one  stage  of  our  philosophic  journey,  for  we  have  gained  a 
vision  of  the  truth  as  the  monistic  personalist  sees  it:  the 
vision  of  a One  which  includes,  without  annihilating,  the 
many,  of  an  absolute  self  who  guarantees  the  individuality 
of  the  particular  selves,  of  an  eternity  which  transcends  yet 
does  not  negate  time,  and  of  an  immortality  required  by 
the  deathless  ideals  of  every  moral  self. 


APPENDIX 


BIOGRAPHIES  AND  BIBLIOGRAPHIES  OF  MODERN 
WRITERS  ON  PHILOSOPHY,  TOGETHER  WITH 
SUMMARIES  AND  DISCUSSIONS  OF  CERTAIN 
TEXTS 

PREFATORY  NOTE 

This  Appendix  contains  (i)  biographies  and  bibliographies  of 
those  writers  whose  systems  are  discussed  at  length  in  this  book, 
and  (2)  briefer  notes  upon  most  of  the  writers  to  whom  the  book 
incidentally  refers.  It  further  supplements  the  book  by  (3)  cer- 
tain critical  notes,  excluded  for  simplicity’s  sake  from  the  body 
of  the  book;  and  by  (4)  commentaries  on  those  portions  of 
Kant’s  “Kritikof  Pure  Reason”  and  Spinoza’s”  Ethics ’’which  are 
not  considered  in  Chapters  8 and  9.  The  order  followed  in  the 
Appendix  differs  from  that  of  the  chapters  mainly  by  grouping  the 
philosophers  with  greater  reference  to  their  nationality  and  by 
restoring  Spinoza  to  his  proper  chronological  position. 

In  selecting  critical  works  for  reference,  the  standard  histories 
of  philosophy  have  not  been  repeatedly  mentioned  by  name ; and 
the  lists  of  commentators  have  been  lengthened  or  shortened, 
according  to  the  obscurity  or  clearness  of  the  different  systems. 
An  effort  has  been  made,  in  most  cases,  to  head  the  lists  by  titles 
of  works  which  seem  to  the  writer  of  greatest  importance  to  the 
student.  For  fuller  bibliographies  the  student  is  referred  to  the 
“ Bibliography  of  Philosophy,  Psychology,  and  Cognate  Subjects,” 
compiled  by  Benjamin  Rand  as  Volume  III.,  Part  I.,  of 
Baldwin’s  “ Dictionary  of  Philosophy  and  Psychology.” 

A.  FORERUNNERS  OF  MODERN  PHILOSOPHY 

GIORDANO  BRUNO  (1548-1600) 

Giordano  Bruno,  born  at  Nola  near  Naples,  entered  as  a youth 
the  Dominican  order,  but  soon  abandoned  the  monastic  vocation. 
After  an  adventurous  life  of  travel  and  teaching,  in  Paris,  London, 

457 


458  Forerunners  of  Modern  Philosophy 

and  Germany,  he  was  arrested  in  Venice  by  order  of  the  Inquisi- 
tion ; was  imprisoned  for  two  years ; and  was  burned  at  the  stake 
in  the  Campo  dei  Fiori  at  Rome,  where  his  statue  now  stands  as 
memorial  to  his  daring  life  of  thought  and  to  his  martyr  death. 
Bruno  accepted  unreservedly  the  Copernican  system  as  metaphys- 
ical and  not  merely  as  astronomical  principle.  To  him  the  uni- 
verse is  both  infinite  and  alive,  and  God  is  its  soul.  Evidently, 
therefore,  Bruno’s  writings  contain  in  germ  most  of  the  important 
doctrines  of  modern  philosophy. 

Chief  Writings 

1584.  “De  la  causa,  principio,  et  uno,”  Venice. 

1584.  “Del  infinito  universo  e dei  mondi,”  Venice. 

1591.  “ De  monade,  numero  et  figura,”  Frankfort. 

1591.  “ De  immensoet  innumerabilibus  s.  de  universo  et  mundis,”  Frank- 
fort. 

“Opera  latine  conscripta,”  Naples,  1879-91. 

“ Opere  (Italian  writings),”  new  edition,  Gottingen,  1888-89. 

J.  Lewis  McIntyre,  Giordano  Bruno,  1903.  (The  most  detailed 
account  in  English  of  Bruno’s  life  and  works.) 

Cf.  Frith,  Lutoslawski,  Pater,  and  Tocco  — all  cited  by  Rand. 

FRANCIS  BACON  (1561-1626) 

The  brilliant  career  of  Francis  Bacon,  in  the  reigns  of  Elizabeth 
and  the  first  James,  and  his  tragic  fall  from  the  office  of  Lord  High 
Chancellor  are  familiar  to  students  of  English  history.  Bacon’s 
contribution  to  metaphysics  is  mainly  negative ; he  opened  the  way 
for  modern  philosophy  by  his  vigorous  onslaught  on  scholasticism 
and  on  every  sort  of  formalism.  For  the  rest,  the  value  of  his  work 
consists  in  the  impetus  which  he  gave  to  inductive,  to  scientific, 
and  — in  particular  — to  experimental,  method. 

Chief  Writings 

1597.  “Essayes.” 

1605.  “The  two  Bookes  of  Francis  Bacon:  Of  the  Proficience and  Advance- 
ment of  Learning,  Divine  and  Humane.”  (In  Latin,  1623, 
“De  Dignitate  et  augmentis  Scientiarum.”  Latest  edition,  with 
the  Essays,  Lond.,  1874.) 

1620.  “Novum  organum  scientiarum.”  (First  published,  1612,  as  “ Cogi- 
tata  et  visa.”  Latest  edition,  Camb.,  1878.) 


Rene  Descartes 


459 


Cf.  the  histories  of  philosophy  for  accounts  of  the  lives  and  writings  of 
other  writers  of  the  Renaissance,  especially  for  discussion  of  Boehme,  and 
of  Campanella. 

B.  CONTINENTAL  PHILOSOPHERS  THROUGH 
LEIBNIZ 

RENE  DESCARTES:  THE  PLURALISTIC  DUALIST 
I.  Life  (1596-1650) 

Rene  Descartes,  born  of  a noble  family  in  Touraine,  was  edu- 
cated in  the  well-known  Jesuit  school  at  La  Fleche,  and  early 
showed  unusual  power  of  acquisition  and  initiative.  It  was  char- 
acteristic of  him,  that,  despite  his  love  of  study,  he  left  school  when 
he  was  only  sixteen  years  old.  His  earliest  published  work,  the 
“Discourse  on  Method,”  recalls  the  period  of  his  early  studies, 
and  sets  forth  the  reasons  for  his  temporary  abandonment  of  the 
life  of  study.  “I  knew,”  he  says,  “that  the  languages  learned  in 
the  schools  are  necessary  for  understanding  the  books  of  the  an- 
cients, . . . but  I thought  I had  given  enough  time  to  the  languages 
and  even  to  the  books,  histories,  and  fables  of  the  ancients,  for 
. . . if  one  spend  too  much  time  in  travelling,  one  becomes  a 
stranger  in  one’s  own  land.  I especially  enjoyed  mathematics, 
. . . but  I did  not  yet  realize  its  true  use,  thinking  that  it  served 
only  for  the  mechanic  arts.  ...  I revered  theology,  but  having 
learned  that  the  way  to  heaven  is  no  less  open  to  the  most 
ignorant  than  to  the  most  learned,  and  that  revealed  truths  . . . 
are  beyond  our  intelligence,  I would  not  have  dared  to  submit 
them  to  the  feebleness  of  my  reasoning.  As  for  philosophy, 

. . . seeing  that  it  had  been  cultivated  by  the  best  minds  for 
several  centuries  and  that  none  the  less  there  was  nothing  undis- 
puted in  it,  I had  not  the  presumption  to  hope  to  succeed  better 
than  the  others.  . . . 

“Therefore,  as  soon  as  my  age  permitted,  I utterly  abandoned 
study  and  resolving  to  seek  no  other  knowledge  than  that  which 
could  be  found  within  myself  or  in  the  great  book  of  the  world, 
I employed  the  rest  of  my  youth  in  travelling,  in  seeing  courts  and 
armies,  in  mingling  with  people  of  different  dispositions  and  con- 
ditions, in  gaining  all  sorts  of  experience  . . . everywhere  making 


460  Continental  Philosophers  through  Leibniz 

such  reflection  as  would  profit  me,  on  the  subjects  which  pre- 
sented themselves.  For  I believed  that  I should  meet  much  more 
truth  in  the  reasonings  of  every  man  on  the  matters  which  con- 
cerned him,  than  in  the  reasonings  of  a man  of  letters  in  his 
study,  on  useless  speculations.  . . . And  I was  always  deeply 
anxious  to  learn  to  distinguish  the  true  from  the  false,  that  I might 
see  clearly  in  my  actions  and  might  walk  assuredly  in  this  life.”1 

The  first  two  of  Descartes’s  four  years  of  military  service  were 
spent  in  the  Netherlands,  in  the  service  of  Prince  Maurice,  son  of 
William  of  Orange.  The  position  seems  a curious  one  for  a 
pupil  of  the  Jesuits;  but  France  under  Louis  XIII.,  with  Marie 
de  Medici  as  virtual  sovereign,  offered  no  military  career;  and  the 
hostility  of  France  toward  Spain  and  Austria  had  sent  many 
Frenchmen  to  the  army  of  Maurice.  Two  years  later,  when  this 
first  service  ended,  Descartes  enrolled  himself  in  the  army  which 
Maximilian  led  to  fight  for  the  Emperor  Ferdinand  II.,  in  his 
pretensions  to  the  throne  of  Bohemia,  against  the  Bohemians 
led  by  the  Protestant  king  of  their  choice,  the  unfortunate 
Frederick  V. 

But  neither  camps  nor  courts  could  divert  Descartes  from  the 
life  of  thought  to  which  he  was  called.  He  never  saw  active  mili- 
tary service;  and,  especially  during  the  years  of  armed  truce  in 
which  he  served  Maurice,  he  had  abundant  leisure  for  the  mathe- 
matical investigation  which  constitutes  his  earliest  claim  to  the 
world’s  regard.  His  friendship  with  the  Dutch  mathematician, 
Isaac  Beeckman,  dates  from  this  period.  A little  later  he  took  up 
the  tangled  thread  of  philosophical  speculation,  with  the  avowed 
aim  of  introducing  into  metaphysics  mathematical  clearness  and 
precision.2  For  a time  he  lived  in  Paris;  but,  though  admirably 
fitted  by  position,  intellect,  and  training,  for  a life  of  social  inter- 
course, he  found  the  cosmopolitan  and  crowded  life  of  the  city 
ill  suited  for  a student’s  environment.  Consequently,  he  with- 
drew to  the  Netherlands,  and  — the  better  to  avoid  distractions 
— changed  his  residence  from  time  to  time,  communicating  with 
the  world  outside  through  the  medium  of  trusted  friends  who  kept 
his  secret. 

In  this  solitude,  Descartes  composed  his  works  on  philosophy 

’“Discourse  on  Method,”  Pt.  I.,  paragraphs  7—14. 

2 Cf.  supra.  Chapter  2,  pp.  26,  38,  45. 


Rene  Descartes 


461 


and  natural  science.  He  was  not  a student  of  preceding  systems 
of  philosophy,  for  he  reacted  strongly  from  the  mediaevalism  of  his 
day,  and  reached  metaphysics  by  the  way  of  mathematics  and 
science.1  The  story  goes  that  he  led  a visitor,  who  had  asked  to 
see  his  library,  into  his  dissecting-room  and,  pointing  to  the  partly 
dissected  body  of  a calf,  said  “This  is  my  library.”  Besides  in- 
venting the  fruitful  method  of  analytic  geometry,  Descartes  made 
contributions  of  more  or  less  importance  to  physics  — notably  to 
optics  — to  astronomy,  to  physiology,  and  to  psychology.  The  list 
of  his  writings,  which  follows,  suggests  the  scope  of  his  intellectual 
activity. 

Both  the  scientific  and  the  philosophical  speculations  of  Des- 
cartes tended  to  bring  him  into  conflict  with  the  Romanist  church, 
of  which  he  remained  throughout  his  life  a loyal  member.  That 
the  opposition  of  the  church  was  never  more  pronounced  is  due  to 
Descartes’s  attitude  of  at  least  outward  submission.  He  sup- 
pressed his  earliest  work,  “Le  Monde,”  when  the  tidings  reached 
him  of  the  condemnation  of  Galileo’s  doctrine;  and  he  says  in 
the  last  paragraph  of  his  “Principles,”  “Nevertheless  ...  I 
affirm  nothing,  but  submit  all  this  to  the  authority  of  the  Catholic 
church  and  the  judgment  of  the  more  prudent.  ...”  His  posi- 
tion seems  to  savor  of  unworthy  subservience;  yet  there  is  little 
doubt  that  he  was  sincere  in  the  belief  that  his  independent  scien- 
tific and  metaphysical  conclusions  were  in  harmony  with  the  teach- 
ings of  the  church. 

The  influence  of  Descartes  on  philosophy  was  quickly  felt  and 
widely  extended.  Modern  thinkers,  scornful  of  the  dogmas  of 
scholasticism,  welcomed  a metaphysical  system  which  started  out 
from  the  position  of  the  doubter,  and  which  made  clear  thinking 
its  criterion.  Among  the  friends  whom  he  made,  by  his  teaching, 
are  two  women  of  remarkable,  though  diverse,  gift.  The  first  is 
the  Princess  Elizabeth,  daughter  of  that  Bohemian  elector,  against 
whom  Descartes  had  served.  Elizabeth,  to  whom  Descartes 
wrote,  “I  know  but  one  mind  and  that  is  your  own,  to  which  both 
geometry  and  the  first  philosophy  are  alike  congenial,”  lived  for 
several  years  at  her  mother’s  court  in  The  Hague ; and  in  order  to 
be  near  her  Descartes  lived  in  the  neighboring  palace  of  Ende- 
geest.  For  her  he  wrote  that  brilliant  psychological  essay,  “The 

1 Cf.  supra , Chapter  2,  pp.  19  seq.;  also  Chapter  i,  pp.  6 seq. 


462  Continental  Philosophers  through  Leibniz 


Passions  of  the  Soul”;  and  to  her  he  dedicated  the  summary 
of  his  system  called  “Principles  of  Philosophy.”  The  correspond- 
ence between  the  two  (published  in  full  in  the  new,  complete  edi- 
tion of  Descartes)  reveals,  in  both  master  and  disciple,  the  quali- 
ties of  loyal  friendship  and  of  vigorous  thought. 

The  more  famous  of  Descartes’s  disciples  is  Queen  Christina 
of  Sweden.  In  1649  he  accepted  her  invitation  to  Stockholm, 
prompted  to  leave  the  Netherlands  because  his  doctrine,  as  taught 
at  the  universities,  had  fallen  under  the  ban  of  the  church.  But 
he  was  not  fitted  to  endure  either  the  rigorous  climate  of  Sweden 
or  the  strenuous  life  of  his  royal  hostess,  who  demanded  philosophi- 
cal discourse  in  the  early  hours  of  the  cold,  northern  winter  days. 
He  died,  deeply  and  truly  mourned,  in  1650. 

II.  Bibliography 

a.  Chief  Writings  of  Descartes 

(Arranged  according  to  dates  of  publication) 

1637.  “Essais  philosophiques,”  including 

“Discours  de  la  methode.”  (For  English  translation,  see  below.) 
“Dioptrique.” 

1641.  “ Meditationes  de  prima  philosophia.” 

Written  in  1629.  Originally  published,  with  the  Objections  of 
various  scholars,  to  whom  the  work  had  been  submitted  in 
manuscript,  and  with  Descartes’s  Replies  to  these  Objections. 
Followed,  in  1647,  by  a translation  into  French,  by  the  Due  de 
Luynes,  corrected  by  Descartes.  (For  translation,  see  below.) 
1644.  “Principia  philosophise.” 

A summary,  in  formal  propositions,  of  Descartes’s  philosophy, 
physics,  physiology,  and  psychology.  (For  translation,  see 
below.) 

1650.  “Traite  des  passions  de  I’ame.” 

A brilliant  little  treatise  on  the  psychology  of  the  emotions. 

1664.  “Le  monde  ou  traite  de  la  lumiere.” 

“Traite  de  l’homme  et  de  la  formation  du  foetus.” 

Portions  only  of  the  earliest  of  Descartes’s  works,  finished  in  1633, 
but  never  published  in  his  lifetime. 

b.  Editions  and  Translations 

“Opera  omnia.”  8 vols,  Amst.,  1670-83. 

“CEuvres,”  13  vols.,  Paris,  1724-29. 

“CEuvres,”  ed.  V.  Cousin,  11  vols.,  Paris,  1824-26. 


The  Occasionalists 


463 


“CEuvres,”  ed.  Ch.  Adam  et  P.  Tannery,  10  vols.  (of  which  8 have  appeared, 
1906).  An  edition  de  luxe , complete,  with  correspondence. 

“CEuvres  de  Descartes”  (“Discours,”  “Meditations,”  “Traite  des  Pas- 
sions”), ed.  J.  Simon,  Paris,  1850  and  1865. 

“The  Discourse  on  Method,  Meditations,  and  Selections  from  the  Prin- 
ciples of  Philosophy  of  Descartes,”  tr.  J.  Veitch,  Edin.  and  Lond.,  1850- 
53,  nth  ed.,  1897;  N.Y.,  1899. 

“The  Discourse  on  Method”  (a  reprint  of  Veitch’s  translation),  Open  Court 
Co.,  1903. 

“Meditations,  and  Selections  from  the  Principles  of  Philosophy”  (a  reprint 
of  Veitch),  Open  Court  Co.,  1903. 


c.  Commentary,  Criticism,  and  Biography 

Fischer,  K.,  “Descartes  and  His  School,”  N.Y.,  1887.  (A  translation  of  the 
first  volume  of  Fischer’s  “Geschichte  der  neueren  Philosophie.” ) 
Haldane,  E.  S.,  “Descartes:  His  Life  and  Times,”  Lond.  and  N.Y.,  1905. 
Huxley,  T.  H.,  “Lay  Sermons,”  Lond.,  1871,  pp.  320-344. 

Mahaffy,  J.  P.,  “Descartes”  (Philosophical  Classics).  Edin.  and  Lond., 
1880.  (Mainly  biographical.) 

Smith,  N.,  “Studies  in  the  Cartesian  Philosophy,”  Lond.,  1902. 

A study  of  Descartes’s  metaphysics  and  of  its  influence  on  succeeding 
Continental  and  British  systems. 

Bouillier,  F.  H.,  “Histoire  de  la  Philosophie  Cartesienne,”  Paris,  1854,  1868. 
Levy-Bruhl,  L.,  “History  of  Modern  Philosophy  in  France,”  Lond.,  1899; 
Open  Court  Co.,  1903. 

THE  OCCASIONALISTS1 

Arnold  Geulincx  (1625-1669) 

Geulincx  was  born  at  Antwerp,  taught  in  the  universities  of 
Loewen  and  of  Leyden,  and  died  in  Leyden.  From  his  meta- 
physical doctrine  of  the  entire  independence  of  mind  from  body, 
Geulincx  deduced  an  ascetic  sort  of  ethics.  Ubi  nil  vales , ibi  nil 
velis,  are  the  words  in  which  he  exhorts  the  soul  to  escape  the  world 
and  its  lusts. 

1662.  “Logica.” 

1665.  “De  virtute  . . . Tractatus  ethicus  primus.” 

1688.  “Physica  vera : opus  posthumum.” 

1691.  “Metaphysica  vera.” 

“Opera  philosophica,”  ed.  J.  P.  N.  Land,  The  Hague,  1891-93. 

1 The  term  applies  to  Geulincx  and  his  followers  rather  than  to  Male- 
branche. 


464  Continental  Philosophers  through  Leibniz 


Nicolas  Malebranche  (1638-1715) 

The  life  of  Malebranche  was  given  over  to  philosophic  and 
religious  meditation  and  retirement.  He  was  a member  of  the 
Oratory  of  Jesus. 

1674-75.  “De  la  recherche  de  la  verity.” 

1680.  “Traite  de  la  nature  et  de  la  grace.” 

1684.  “Traite  de  morale.” 

1698.  “Traite  de  l’amour  de  Dieu.” 

“CEuvres,”  ed.  J.  Simon,  2 vols.,  1842,  1859;  4 vols.  1871  (lacks  the 
“Traite  de  morale  ” ). 

Joly,  H.,  “Malebranche”  (Grands  Philosophes),  Paris,  1901. 

Caird,  E.,  In  “Essays  on  Literature  and  Philosophy,”  N.Y.,  1892. 

BARUCH  DE  SPINOZA:  THE  MONISTIC  PLURALIST 
I.  Life  (1632-1677) 

Baruch  Spinoza  was  born  in  November,  1632.  His  parents 
belonged  to  the  community  of  the  Portuguese  Jews  who  had  taken 
refuge  in  Amsterdam  from  the  persecution  of  the  Inquisition.  His 
early  environment  was  therefore  that  of  the  Hebrew  community 
in  Amsterdam  — a society  which,  despite  its  political  freedom, 
was  yet  isolated  by  its  distinct  customs  and  traditions.  All  that 
we  know  of  his  childhood  and  youth  are  certain  details  of  his 
training  at  the  Jewish  schools  in  Hebrew  literature;  and  later 
under  his  well-known  tutor,  Francis  van  den  Ende,  in  Latin,  in 
physiology,  and  perhaps  in  philosophy.  The  story  of  his  unsuc- 
cessful courtship  of  Van  den  Ende’s  daughter  rests  on  too  slight 
evidence  to  be  credited. 

The  most  significant  event  of  Spinoza’s  outward  life  was  his 
expulsion,  in  1656,  from  the  Jewish  synagogue.  We  do  not  know 
exactly  what  course  of  thought  or  what  line  of  reading  disposed 
Spinoza  to  question  the  teachings  of  the  rabbis.  Certainly  the 
teaching  of  Descartes  profoundly  affected  his  thinking,  and  it  is 
very  likely  that  he  was  influenced  by  the  nature-philosophy  of 
Bruno  and  of  the  mediaeval  neo-Platonists.1  His  expulsion  from 
the  synagogue  followed  an  unsuccessful  attempt  of  the  rabbis  to 
purchase  by  an  annuity  of  one  thousand  florins  his  outward  con- 
formity with  Jewish  ceremonial  and  teaching.  The  sentence 

1 Cf.  Pollock  (pp.  82  seq.),  and  Avenarius,  both  cited  below. 


Baruch  De  Spinoza 


465 


which  excommunicated  him  pronounced  him  “cursed  ...  by 
day  . . . and  by  night,  ...  in  sleeping  and  ...  in  waking,  . . . 
in  going  out  and  in  coming  in ; ” and  warned  the  members  of  the 
synagogue  “that  none  may  speak  with  him  . . . nor  show  any 
favor  to  him  . . . nor  come  within  four  cubits  of  him.”  1 

The  twenty  years  which  remained  of  Spinoza’s  life  were  spent  in 
the  spiritual  solitude,  enforced  by  this  excommunication,  from 
the  association  with  the  friends  of  his  race  and  of  his  youth.  His 
doctrines  of  government,  of  scripture  interpretation,  and  of  the- 
ology earned  for  him  the  distrust  and  the  enmity  both  of  Protestant 
and  of  Romanist  church,  and  of  the  prevalent  Cartesian  philoso- 
phy.2 In  the  years  following  immediately  upon  his  expulsion,  he 
lived  near  Amsterdam  with  a friend  who  belonged  to  the  small 
dissenting  Christian  community  of  the  Remonstrants;  later,  he 
spent  a few  years  in  the  village  of  Rijnsburg,  near  Leyden,  the 
headquarters  of  this  same  sect ; the  last  ten  or  twelve  years  of  his 
life  he  spent  in  or  near  The  Hague. 

In  1670  appeared  the  only  work  which  Spinoza  published  dur- 
ing his  lifetime,  the  “Tractatus  Theologico-Politicus,”  which  in  the 
first  place  advocated  the  interpretation  of  the  Scriptures  as  literary 
and  historical  documents  and  as  vehicles  of  moral  truth;  in  the 
second  place,  appealed  from  church  to  state  authority;  and  finally, 
counselled  absolute  freedom  of  thought  and  speech,  on  the  ground 
that  a man  may  live  rightly  whatever  his  theory,  or  speculative 
system.  A storm  of  disapproval  greeted  each  one  of  these  teach- 
ings. The  book  was  prohibited  by  the  Dutch  government  and 
was  placed  on  the  Index.2  None  the  less  it  gained  the  attention 
of  thoughtful  men,  and  perhaps  procured  for  Spinoza,  in  1672, 
an  invitation,  which  he  declined,  to  the  chair  of  philosophy  in 
Heidelberg  University.  “I  reflect,”  he  said,  “that  I must  give  up 
philosophic  research  if  I am  to  find  time  for  teaching  a class.  I 
reflect,  moreover,  that  I cannot  tell  within  what  bounds  to  confine 
. . . philosophic  freedom.” 

During  all  these  years  Spinoza  supported  himself  by  the  handi- 
craft which  he  had  learned  as  a boy,  in  accordance  with  the  Jewish 
custom:  the  art,  in  which  he  acquired  both  skill  and  reputation, 
of  making  and  polishing  glasses.  His  outward  life  was  one  of 

1 Freudenthal,  pp.  115-116,  note,  cited  below. 

2 Cf.  the  resolutions  of  synods,  States  of  Holland,  etc.,  quoted  by  FreudenthaL 

2 H 


466  Continental  Philosophers  through  Leibniz 

almost  austere  simplicity,  of  thrift,  and  of  scrupulous  honor.  Its 
quiet  was,  to  be  sure,  well-nigh  disturbed  when,  in  1672,  he  was 
barely  restrained  from  exposing  himself  to  personal  danger  by  the 
public  expression  of  his  indignation  at  the  assassination  of  Jan 
and  Cornelius  de  Witte.  Of  the  vigorous  and  daring  range  of  his 
thought,  speculative  and  practical,  during  these  mainly  uneventful 
years,  his  works  give  evidence.  For  proof  of  his  capacity  to  give 
and  to  gain  loyal  friendship  we  must  turn  to  the  small  collection  of 
his  letters  and  to  the  indications  given  by  contemporary  biographers. 
Most  significant  of  these  is  John  Colerus,  a minister  of  the  Lutheran 
church  at  The  Hague.  For  the  ‘pernicious  opinions’ of  Spinoza, 
the  philosopher,  Colerus  entertained  only  ‘aversion  and  horror,’ 
but  he  honored  the  simple,  honest,  and  courageous  life  of  the  man, 
and  deprecated  the  ‘many  and  false  reports’  about  him.  In 
truth,  the  judgment  of  Spinoza’s  contemporaries  has  long  since 
been  reversed.  Not  only  is  his  philosophy  the  source  of  one 
strong  current  in  modern  thought,  but  many  who  reject  or  care 
not  for  his  metaphysics  seek  in  his  ethics  and  in  the  example  of 
his  life  to  learn  the  lesson  of  renunciation  touched  with  enthu- 
siasm. 

II.  Bibliography 


a.  Works  of  Spinoza 

(In  the  order  of  publication.  For  the  order  of  composition,  cf.  Avenarius, 
cited  below.) 

1663.  “Renati  des  Cartes  principiorum  philosophise,  Pars  i.  et  ii.,  more  geo- 
metrico,”  Amst. 

Transl.:  “The  Principles  of  Descartes’s  Philosophy,”  with  Intro- 
duction, by  H.  H.  Britan,  Open  Court  Co.,  1905. 

(A  summary  of  Descartes’s  “Principles,”  I.  and  II.,  supple- 
mented by  an  Appendix  more  independently  written.) 

1670.  “Tractatus  theologico-politicus,”  Hamburg  (actually  Amst.).  Cf. 
supra , p.  465. 

English  by  R.  H.  M.  Elwes,  “Chief  Works  of  B.  De  Spinoza,” 
Lond.,  1883-84,  Vol.  I. 

1677.  “Opera  posthuma,”  Amst. 

The  title-page  contains  no  indication  of  editor,  publisher,  or  place 
of  publication.  The  volume  contains,  besides  a compendium 
of  Hebrew  grammar  and  a collection  of  letters,  the  following 
works : — 


Baruch  De  Spinoza 


467 


“Ethica.” 

Engl,  by  R.  H.  M.  Elwes,  op.  cit.,  Vol.  II ; by  W.  H.  White,  2d  ed., 
rev.  by  A.  H.  Stirling,  1894;  by  Henry  Smith,  Cincinnati,  1886. 
“Tractatus  politicus.”  (An  unfinished  work  written  just  before 
Spinoza’s  death,  treating  of  the  theory  and  the  forms  of  govern- 
ment.) Engl,  by  Elwes,  op.  cit.,  Vol.  I. 

“Tractatus  de  intellectus  emendatione.”  (An  anticipation  of  the 
epistemological  teachings  of  the  “Ethics,”  probably  written  about 
1655.)  Engl,  by  Elwes,  op.  cit.,  Vol.  II;  and  W.  H.  White, 
Lond.,  1895. 

1687.  “Stelkondige  reckening  van  den  regenboog  (Tractatus  de  Iride).” 
1852.  “Tractatus de  Deo  et  homine.”  (This  treatise  consists  chiefly  of  a 
sort  of  first-hand  draft  of  the  “ Ethics.”  Incorporated  in  it  are  two 
short  dialogues,  probably  the  very  earliest  of  Spinoza’s  writings.) 
German  translations  by  C.  Schaarschmidt,  Berk,  1869,  and  C. 
Sigwart,  Freiburg,  1870  and  1881. 

“Opera,”  ed.  J.  van  Vloten  et  J.  P.  Land,  1882-83;  2d  ed.,  3 
vols.,  1895-96.  (The  only  complete  and  authoritative  text.) 

b.  Commentary  and  Criticism 

Pollock,  F.,  “ Spinoza,  his  Life  and  Philosophy,”  Lond.,  1899  (2d  ed.). 
Ritchie,  E.,  “Notes  on  Spinoza’s  Conception  of  God,”  and  “The  Reality  of 
the  Finite  in  Spinoza’s  System,”  articles  in  the  Philosophical  Review, 
XI.  and  XIII.,  1902  and  1904. 

Avenarius,  R.,  “Ueber  die  beiden  ersten  Phasen  des  Spinozischen  Pan- 
theismus,”  Leipzig,  1868. 

Busolt,  G.,  “Die  Grundzuge  der  Erkenntnisstheorie  und  Metaphysik 
Spinoza’s,”  Berk,  1875.  (Commentary  from  the  standpoint  of  idealism.) 
Joachim,  H.,  “A  Study  of  the  Ethics  of  Spinoza,”  Oxf.,  1901. 

Arnold,  M.,  “Essays  in  Criticism,”  3d  ed.,  N.Y.,  1876,  pp.  237-362. 
Brunschvicg,  L.,  “Spinoza,”  Paris,  1894. 

Caird,  J.,  “Spinoza,”  Edin.  and  Lond.,  1888. 

Camerer,  T.,  “Die  Lehre  Spinoza’s,”  Stuttg.,  1877. 

Froude,  J.  A.,  In  “Short  Studies  on  Great  Subjects,”  Lond.,  1873. 
Fullerton,  G.  S.,  “The  Philosophy  of  Spinoza,”  pp.  22,  2d  ed.,  N.Y.,  1894 
(a  translation  of  parts  of  the  “Ethics”);  and  “On  Spinozistic  Im- 
mortality,” Phila.,  1899. 

Renouvier,  C.,  “La  philosophic  de  Spinoza,”  in  La  Critique  Philosophique, 
1881-82. 

Sorley,  W.  R.,  “ Jewish  Mediaeval  Philosophy  and  Spinoza.”  In  Mind,  V., 
1880,  pp.  362-384. 

Stein,  L.,  “ Leibniz  und  Spinoza,”  Berk,  1890.  (Stein  shows  that  the  influence 
of  Spinoza  upon  Leibniz  and  the  intercourse  between  them  have 
been  underestimated). 

(Critics  of  the  late  eighteenth  century) 

Hegel, G.W.  F.,in  “Geschichte  der  Philosophic”  (Engl,  trans.,  III.,  252-290) 


468  Continental  Philosophers  through  Leibniz 

Herder,  J.  G.,  “Einige  Gesprache  uber  Spinoza’s  System,”  Gotha,  1787. 
Jacobi,  F.  H.,  “Ueber  die  Lehre  des  Spinoza,”  Breslau,  1785  (Werke,  IV.). 
Mendelssohn,  M.,  “An  die  Freunde  Lessings,”  Berl.,  1786. 

Schelling,  F.  W.  J.,  “Sammtliche  Werke,”  Stuttg.,  1861  (X.,  pp.  33-55). 

Cf.  among  histories  of  philosophy,  especially  Erdmann.  Cf.  also 
Joachim,  op.  cit.,  for  selected  bibliography;  and  Berendt  u.  Friedlander, 
Busse,  Clarke,  Foucher  de  Careil,  Knight,  Lowenhardt,  and  Trendelen- 
burg, cited  by  Rand. 

c.  Biography 

Colerus,  J.,  “Leven  van  Spinoza,”  Amst.,  1705. 

English,  Pollock,  op.  cit. 

Lucas,  “La  vie  de  Spinoza,”  Amst.,  1719  (reprinted  by  Freudenthal,  cited 
below). 

Freudenthal,  J.,  “Die  Lebensgeschichte  Spinozas.” 

An  invaluable  collection  of  copies  and  translations  into  German  of  original 
documents:  the  early  biographies,  sentence  of  excommunication,  pro- 
hibitions of  synods,  etc. 

Auerbach,  B.,  “Spinoza:  ein  historischer  Roman,”  Stuttg.,  1837;  2te  neu 
durchgearbeitete  Aufl. : “Spinoza,  ein  Denkerleben,”  Mannheim,  1855. 
Renan,  E.,  “Spinoza,”  Haag,  1887.  Engl,  in  Popular  Science  Monthly, 
XI.,  216-230. 

Cf.,  also,  Pollock,  op.  cit.,  and  Fischer,  Van  der  Linde,  and  Meinsma, 
cited  by  Rand. 

III.  Note  upon  Spinoza’s  Doctrine  of  the  Infinite 
Modes 

‘Infinite  modes’  of  two  sorts  (‘immediate’  and  ‘mediate’  infi- 
nite modes,  as  one  may  designate  them,  for  want  of  names  defi- 
nitely given  by  Spinoza)  are  described  in  Propositions  21  and  22 
of  Part  I.  of  the  “ Ethics,”  but  so  ambiguously  that  the  student 
will  at  once  turn  to  Letter  66  (Van  Vloten  64)  for  the  illustrations 
which  Spinoza  gives  of  these  infinite  modes.  “ The  examples  you 
ask  for  of  the  first  kind,”  he  says,  “are,  in  thought,  absolutely 
infinite  understanding;  in  extension,  motion  and  rest;  an  ex- 
ample of  the  second  kind  is  the  appearance  of  the  whole  universe 
(Jacies  totins  universi).” 

By  facies  totius  universi,  Spinoza  may  be  supposed  to  mean 
the  indefinitely  great  (and  thus,  in  a certain  sense,  the  infinite) 
sum  of  all  the  finite  modes  — of  all  the  minds,  ideas,  bodies,  and 
physical  processes.  For  the  other  examples  of  infinite  modes,  it 
is  harder  to  find  a place  in  Spinoza’s  system.  In  my  own  hesi- 


The  Psychology  and  Epistemology  of  Spinoza  469 

tating  opinion,  Spinoza  meant  to  designate  by  ‘infinite  intellect’ 
the  fundamental  aspect  of  the  attribute,  thought,  and  by  ‘motion 
and  rest’  the  significant  aspects  of  extension.1  Thus  conceived, 
the  infinite  modes  of  this  group  are,  as  it  were,  sub-attributes. 
Such  an  interpretation,  it  must  be  admitted,  gives  a new  mean- 
ing to  the  term  ‘mode’;  but  other  interpretations  (that  of  Erd- 
mann and  Fischer,  for  example)  are  not  reconcilable  with  Propo- 
sition 21  of  Part  I.  The  truth  is  that  Spinoza  treats  the  whole 
subject  so  briefly  and  recurs  to  it  so  seldom  that  we  may  well 
question  whether  we  are  able  to  discover  his  meaning. 

IV.  Exposition  and  Estimate  of  Parts  II.-V.  of 
Spinoza’s  “ Ethics  ” 

The  discussion  of  Spinoza's  psychology,  epistemology,  and  ethics, 
though  it  does  not  fall  within  the  narrow  purpose  of  this  book,  is 
here  undertaken  both  because  these  doctrines  are  so  frequently 
referred  to  in  the  strictly  metaphysical  portions  of  the  “Ethics,” 
and  because  they  form  the  consummation  of  Spinoza’s  teach- 
ing. It  seems  unjust  to  Spinoza  and  unfair  to  his  great  work,  the 
“Ethics,”  to  present  its  metaphysical  without  its  practical  doctrine. 
A further  justification  of  such  a summary  is  the  fact  that  the  very 
wealth  of  detail  in  Parts  IV.  and  V.  of  the  “Ethics”  often  obscures 
the  underlying  principles  of  Spinoza’s  psychological  and  ethical 
teachings.  The  sections  following  attempt  only  to  indicate  the 
underlying  outlines  of  his  doctrine.  For  stimulus  to  psychological 
analysis,  as  for  the  tranquillizing  yet  invigorating  influence  of 
Spinoza’s  theory  of  the  moral  life,  the  reader  must  turn  to  the 
“Ethics”  itself. 

a.  The  Psychology  and  Epistemology  of  Spinoza 
1.  The  nature  of  mind 

Spinoza  has  two  ways  of  describing  the  mind.  The  first  and 
most  natural  of  these  is  found  in  the  third  definition  of  Part  II. 
of  the  “Ethics,”  where  Spinoza  says  of  the  mind  that  it  is  “a  con- 
scious thing”  which  forms  ideas.2  This  is  a conception  of  the 

1 Cf.  “Tractatus  de  Deo  et  homine,”  Pt.  I.,  8 and  9. 

2 ‘Per  ideam  inteUigo  mentis  conceptual  quem  mens  format,  propterea  quod 
res  est  cogitans.” 


470  Continental  Philosophers  through  Leibniz 


mind  as  subject  of  consciousness.  It  is  restated  by  Spinoza  in 
many  connections;  as  when  he  says:  “the  mind  will  contem- 
plate,” 1 “ the  mind  imagines,” 2 “ the  mind  perceives  . . . through 
ideas.”  3 

Spinoza’s  second  way  of  describing  the  mind  is  as  the  complex 
idea  of  the  body.4  According  to  this  view,  the  mind  is  no  longer  a 
subject  of  ideas,  or  a self  conscious  of  ideas,  but  is  the  mere  sum  of 
ideas.  This  is  the  conception  whose  inadequacy  has  been  revealed 
by  the  study  of  Hume’s  theory  of  the  self.5  Spinoza  seems  not  to 
realize  its  inconsistency  with  his  more  usual  view  of  the  mind  as 
possessor,  not  sum,  of  ideas.  He,  however,  employs  this  complex- 
idea-theory  of  the  mind  only  when  he  is  emphasizing  the  practi- 
cally useful  conception  of  the  mind  as  parallel  to,  coordinate  with, 
the  body.  This  is  the  meaning  of  the  statement  that  the  mind  is 
constituted  by  an  idea  of  the  body  — a teaching  about  the  rela- 
tion of  mind  to  body  which  follows  necessarily  from  Spinoza’s 
general  doctrine  of  parallelism.  And  even  if,  as  suggested  in  the 
latter  part  of  the  eighth  chapter  of  this  book,  there  is  reason  to 
question  the  metaphysical  validity  of  the  concept  of  parallelism, 
every  one  will  admit  this  conception  of  the  mind  as  a convenient 
way  of  ordering  psychical  and  physical  phenomena.  That  is, 
to  put  it  differently,  most  psychologists  will  admit  that  minds  and 
bodies,  as  observed,  are,  to  say  the  least,  parallel  phenomena  even 
if  they  are  also  interrelated,  and  even  if  one  of  the  two  turns  out  to 
be  more  real  than  the  other.® 

Thus  Spinoza’s  definition  of  the  mind  as  ‘ idea  of  the  body,’  in 
the  first  place,  substitutes  for  the  conception  of  the  mind  as  con- 
scious thing  ( res  cogitans)  the  less  adequate  view  of  it  as  a sum 
of  ideas.  In  the  second  place,  however,  it  supplements  either  of 
the  two  conceptions  of  the  mind  by  the  accepted  teaching  that  the 
mind  is  parallel  to  the  body.  Unhappily,  however,  Spinoza  ap- 
pears to  be  sometimes  himself  misled  by  this  ambiguity  of  the 

'“Ethics,”  II.,  17,  Corol.  2 Ibid.,  Scholium.  3 II.,  26.  Cf.  43,  Schol. 

4 II.,  13  : “Objectum  idea  humanam  mentem  constituentis  est  corpus.” 
Cf.  11  and  15.  6 Cf.  supra,  p.  179. 

8 Spinoza  himself  indicates  this  double  meaning  of  the  term  ‘idea,’  in  the 
Scholium  to  II.  17,  where  he  sets  forth  the  difference  between  (1)  the  ‘idea’ 
(that  is,  the  psychic  phenomenon,  parallel  to  Peter’s  body),  which  constitutes  the 
essence  of  Peter’s  mind,  and  (2)  the  ‘idea’  (consciousness)  of  Peter’s  body  which 
Paul  has.  The  physical  parallel  to  this  second  idea,  Paul’s  idea,  of  Peter’s  body  is, 
as  Spinoza  does  not  fail  to  point  out,  a modification  of  Paul’s,  not  of  Peter’s,  body. 


The  Psychology  and  Epistemology  of  Spinoza  471 


term  ‘idea,’  and  seems  accordingly  to  regard  the  mind,  defined  as 
idea  of  the  body,  as  if  it  were  not  a parallel,  but  a consciousness, 
of  the  body.  This,  at  least,  is  the  obvious  meaning  of  such  a state- 
ment as  the  following,  “Nothing  can  happen  in  the  body  which 
is  not  perceived  by  the  mind.”  1 Such  an  assertion  flatly  contra- 
dicts our  experience.  We  certainly  are  not  conscious  of  all  the 
bodily  changes  which,  there  is  reason  to  suppose,  go  on  in  our 
bodies.  The  doctrine  is  inconsistent  with  Spinoza’s  initial  con- 
ception of  the  mind;  and  it  may  well  be  that  his  expression,  not 
his  thought,  is  at  fault  and  that  he  never  meant  to  teach  that  the 
mind  is  conscious  of  all  bodily  modifications.  His  words,  however, 
sometimes  lend  themselves  to  this  interpretation,  and  in  any  case 
he  uses  the  word  ‘ idea  ’ with  misleading  ambiguity.2 

2.  The  different  sorts  of  consciousness  and  their  value 

Spinoza’s  account  of  the  different  types  of  consciousness,  that 
is,  his  psychological  classification,  is  preceded  and,  in  part,  based 
on  a discussion  of  the  properties  of  body.3  Spinoza  justifies  this 
procedure  on  the  ground  of  his  parallelism : if  psychic  changes  go 
on,  side  by  side,  with  physical  ones,  then  for  every  distinct  physical 
change,  a psychical  change  is  to  be  expected.  To  this  method  it 
may  be  objected  that,  considering  the  assumed  independence  of 
psychical  and  physical,  each  should  be  studied  for  itself  and  classi- 
fied by  internal  likenesses  and  differences. 

Waiving  this  objection  to  the  adequacy  of  Spinoza’s  method,  we 
may  now  summarize  and  classify,  as  follows,  Spinoza’s  psycho- 
logical and  epistemological  doctrine  — his  classification  of  con- 
sciousness according  to  (1)  its  value,  (2)  its  object,  (3)  the 
accompanying  physical  phenomena : — 

Stage  I.  Opinion  or  Imagination .4 

A.  Its  Nature : — 

I.  Consciousness  of  the  Body. 

a.  Cognition  (Consciousness  primarily  of  external  bodies  which 
affect  one’s  own  body) : — 

1.  Primary  Cognition  (The  possession  of  ideas  exactly  corre- 
sponding to  external  bodies)  : — 


1 “ Ethics,”  II.,  12.  2 Cf.  Pollock,  “ Spinoza,”  p.  125 

3 “ Ethics,”  II.,  13,  with  its  Axioms,  Lemmas,  and  Postulates. 

4 “Ethics,”  II.,  40,  Schol.  2.  Cf.  Spinoza’s  “On  the  Improvement  of  the  Un- 
derstanding,” Elwes’s  translation,  p.  8.  The  technical  names  used  by  Spinoza 
himself  are  italicized. 


47 2 Continental  Philosophers  through  Leibniz 


(a)  Perception, 1 when  these  external  bodies  are  present. 

(b)  Imagination ,2  when  these  external  bodies  are  absent. 
Note.  Memory:3  repeated  imagination. 

Association : 4 the  relation  of  images. 

2.  Secondary  Cognition  (The  consciousness,  varying  with  the 
individual,  of  common  qualities  of  bodies) : 5 — 

(a)  Abstract  6 ( e.g . ‘Being,’  ‘Thing’). 

(b)  Concrete  5 (e.g.  ‘Man,’  ‘Horse’). 

b.  Affect:3  (Consciousness  primarily  of  one’s  own  body  as 
affected.) 

II.  The  Mind’s  Consciousness  of  Itself  (Idea  idea)? 

Note.  The  Mind’s  illusional  consciousness  of  freedom.8 
B.  The  Value  of  Opinion:9  — 

I.  Opinion  is  inadequate,  because  its  parallel  (a  modification  of  the 
human  body)  is  more  limited  than  its  object  (external 
thing,  human  body,  or  itself).10 

II.  Opinion  is 

a.  Untrue  so  far  as  its  object  is  external  body,  human  body,  or 

mind ; 11  yet 

b.  True  so  far  as  its  object  is  a limited  idea.11 

Notes,  a.  Falsity  is  not  a positive  quality.12 

b.  Ideas,  even  if  inadequate  and  untrue,  are 
necessary.13 


Stage  II.  Reason. 

A.  Its  Nature : Consciousness  of  ideas  common  to  all  men.14 

I.  Ideas  of  modifications,  which  are 

a.  i.  Common  to  all  bodies  and  parts  of  bodies.15 
2.  Common  to  all  ideas. 

b.  Common  to  human  body  and  to  all  affecting  bodies.18 

II.  Ideas  of  the  eternal  and  necessary  as  such  (extension,  thought, 
and  infinite  modes).17 

B.  Its  Value. 

I.  These  common  ideas  are  relatively  adequate,  or  complete,  because 
limited  in  intention.18 


'“Ethics,”  II.,  17.  2 II.,  17,  Corol.  3 II.,  18,  Schol.  4 II.,  18. 

6 11.,  40,  Schol.  1.  6 III.,  Def.  3.  (Cf.  infra,  p.  473  re<;.)  7 II.,  21  and  43. 

8 1.,  Appendix,  and  II.,  35,  Schol. 

9 Spinoza  has  two  criteria  of  the  value  of  the  different  forms  of  consciousness: 

their  adequacy,  which  he  defines  as  their  completeness  (cf.  II.,  Def.  IV.,);  and 

their  truth,  which  he  defines  as  the  agreements  of  the  idea  with  its  object  (idea- 
turn).  Cf.  II.,  Def.  4;  Epistle  64  (Van  Vloten,  60);  ‘‘Improvement  of  the 
Understanding,”  Elwes’s  trans.,  pp.  12  seq.  He  teaches,  also,  that  the  adequate 

is  the  true  (II.,  34).  10  II.,  25-28.  11  II.,  41,  35,  and  Schol. 

12 11.,  33;  Epistle  34  (Van  Vloten,  21);  “Improvement  of  the  Understanding,” 

Elwes’s  translation,  p.  40,  VIII.  13  II.,  36. 

14 11.,  40,  Schol.  2;  38,  Corol.;  “Improvement  of  the  Understanding,”  Elwes’s 

translation,  p.  8.  15 II.,  38.  16 II.,  39.  17 II.,  44,  and  Corol.  2 with  Proof. 

18 11.,  38-40. 


The  Psychology  and  Epistemology  of  Spinoza  473 


II.  These  common  ideas  are  true 

a.  because  adequate ; 1 

b.  because  the  object,  with  which  they  agree,  is  limited.  * 
Stage  III.  Intuitive  Knowledge. 

A.  Its  Nature:  knowledge  of  real  essence  of 

I.  Attributes  of  God.3 

II.  Things.3 

B.  Its  Value.  Adequate  and  necessary.1 

Detailed  comment  on  this  doctrine  would  lead  us  too  far  afield.* 
Its  obscurest  features  concern,  not  the  purely  psychological  classi- 
fication, but  the  epistemological  valuation.  Not  only  is  there  a 
tendency  to  confuse  adequacy  with  truth;  but  the  definition  of 
truth  as  agreement  of  idea  with  its  object  ( ideatum ),  inherited  as 
it  is  from  dualistic  philosophy,  involves  great  difficulty  in  the  case 
of  self-consciousness  ( idea  idea),  where  the  two  are,  by  hypothesis, 
the  same.6  The  criterion  which  Spinoza  really  employs  in  his 
estimate  of  the  grades  of  consciousness  is  not  the  agreement  of 
idea  with  ideate,  but  completeness  — not  alone,  as  his  definitions 
suggest,  in  the  object  of  consciousness,  but  in  its  subject  as  well. 
Thus  the  second  stage  of  consciousness,  reason,  is  a consciousness 
(shared  with  all  men)  of  common  qualities,  of  extension  or  of 
thought,  either  as  manifested  in  bodies 7 or  in  ideas,  or  as  abstractly 
considered.  And  the  highest  consciousness  is  the  explicit,  im- 
mediate consciousness  of  the  one  substance  in  itself  and  in  its 
manifestations;  a consciousness  which  (if  it  be  right  to  attribute 
self-consciousness  to  Spinoza’s  God)  the  finite  mind  shares  not  only 
with  all  other  finite  minds,  but  with  God. 


3.  The  nature  and  classification  of  the  affective,  or  non-co g- 
nitive,  consciousness 

Spinoza  treats  in  great  detail  the  psychology  of  the  affects  or 
non-cognitive  mental  functions.  His  interest  seems  to  be  due 

1 “ Ethics,”  II.  34.  2 Ibid. 

3 II.,  40,  Schol.  2:  “Intuition  . . . proceeds  from  the  adequate  idea  of  the 
absolute  essence  of  certain  attributes  of  God  to  the  adequate  knowledge  of  the 
essence  of  things.”  Cf.  II.,  45;  V.,  36,  Schol.;  “Improvement,”  etc.,  loc.  cit. 

4 II.,  46-47.  5 Cf.,  throughout,  Joachim,  op.  cit.,  pp.  132  seq. 

6 With  Spinoza’s  double  use  of  the  term  ‘idea,’  there  is  also  the  difficulty 
that  an  idea  has  two  objects,  or  ideates:  its  bodily  accompaniment  and  its  ‘object.’ 
On  all  this  cf.  Joachim,  op.  cit.,  pp.  139  seq. 

7 In  II.,  39,  only  the  ideas  of  common  bodily  properties  are  explicitly  recog- 
nized. Spinoza’s  general  doctrine,  however,  requires  the  application  to  ideas  also. 


474  Continental  P hilosophers  through  Leibniz 


partly  to  his  dissatisfaction  with  contemporary  writers  who,  he 
says,  treat  the  affects  rather  as  ‘ phenomena  outside  nature  than  as 
facts  which  follow  the  common  laws  of  nature’  and  who  “would 
rather  abuse  or  deride  human  emotions  than  understand  them.” 
But  besides  the  general  scientific  interest  in  analyzing  the  emotions 
and  in  reducing  them  to  natural  law,  Spinoza  has  also  an  especial 
concern  with  them  in  their  influence  upon  the  life  of  morality. 

From  the  standpoint  both  of  psychology  and  of  physiology, 
Part  III.  of  the  “Ethics,”  which  contains  these  discussions,  is  of 
the  very  greatest  value  — full  of  close  observation  and  keen  analysis. 
Spinoza’s  first  definition  of  the  affect  makes  the  term  broad  enough 
to  cover  both  the  mental  process  and  the  accompanying  bodily 
changes.  Indeed,  he  makes  the  latter  primary  in  his  definition. 
“By  affect,”  he  says,1  “I  mean  the  modifications  (affections)  of  the 
body  by  which  the  power  to  act  of  the  same  body  is  increased  or 
diminished,  aided  or  constrained,  and  also  the  ideas  of  these  bodily 
modifications.”  Here,  on  the  basis  of  his  fundamental  parallelism, 
Spinoza  follows  out  the  method,  already  criticised,  of  distinguish- 
ing mental  states  according  to  the  distinctions  of  the  parallel, 
though  independent,  bodily  states.  Now  it  is  a common  observation 
that  good  health  attends  happiness  and  that  sorrow  is  accompanied 
by  bodily  depression,  and  it  is  this  fact,  widely  recognized  by 
modern  and  evoluntionary  theories  of  emotion,  on  which  Spinoza 
here  lays  stress.  The  bodily  phenomena,  however,  though  a 
constant  accompaniment,  should  not  be  treated  as  a cardinal  part 
of  the  affect  — especially  on  Spinoza’s  principle  of  the  perfect 
independence  of  psychical  and  physical;  and,  as  a matter  of  fact, 
Spinoza  usually  means  by  ‘affect,’  not  the  idea-plus-the-bodily- 
change,  but  the  idea  alone. 

A true,  though  a negative,  distinction  of  the  affect  is  the  one 
already  recognized ; 2 the  cognition  has,  or  may  have,  as  its  object, 
the  external  thing,  while  the  affect  is  not,  at  any  rate  primarily, 
a consciousness  of  external  object.  But  obviously  this  distinction 
is  sufficient  only  to  mark  off  the  affect  from  the  cognition,  and 
reveals  nothing  of  its  actual  nature.  It  is  supplemented  by 
Spinoza’s  distinction  between  two  sorts  of  affect,  on  the  one  hand, 
what  he  calls  desire  ( cupiditas ) or  will  (voluntas),  on  the  other  hand 
emotion  proper,  affect  in  the  narrowest  sense.  Spinoza  does  not, 

2 Cf.  supra,  p.  472. 


1 “ Ethics,”  Pt.  III.,  Def.  III. 


Spinoza's  Doctrine  of  the  Affects  475 


it  must  be  admitted,  say  in  so  many  words,  “there  are  two  kinds 
of  affect,  will  and  emotion.”  On  the  contrary,  he  often  treats 
desire  as  coordinate  with  the  basal  emotions,  joy  and  sadness. 
But  his  definitions  justify  the  distinction,  and,  as  will  appear,  it 
is  needed  to  bring  consistency  into  his  psychology.  He  defines 
will  as  ‘the  endeavor  ( conatus ) of  the  mind  ...  to  persist  in  its 
own  being.’ 1 (It  will  be  observed  that  endeavor,  or  conatus,  is  a 
broader  term  than  will,  in  that  it  may  be  referred  to  the  body. 
The  term  ‘appetite’  Spinoza  reserves  for  the  endeavor  of  mind 
and  body  in  conjunction.)  The  definition  in  this  Scholium  of 
desire,  or  cupiditas,  as  ‘appetite  with  consciousness  thereof,’  is 
not  very  clear;  but  practically  Spinoza  uses  the  term  in  the  sense 
of  will,  to  mean  conscious  self-affirmation ; 2 and  he  defines  de- 
sire, as  ‘ nothing  else  but  the  endeavor  to  act,’ 3 ‘the  actual  essence 
of  a man  ...  as  determined  to  a particular  activity.  . . .’ 
Now  most  of  the  affects  which  Spinoza  treats  — for  example, 
fear,  indignation,  and  pity  — obviously  are  not  endeavors  toward 
self-persistence,  and  clearly  need  to  be  distinguished  from  the 
activities,  the  strivings  of  the  mind.  It  is  truer  to  Spinoza’s  own 
teaching  to  make  such  a contrast. 

(a)  From  this  discussion  of  Spinoza’s  definition  of  emotions, 
we  turn  to  his  classification  of  them.  Of  the  affects  proper,  he 
recognizes  joy  and  sorrow — Icetitia  and  tristitia — as  basal.  That 
they  are  psychologically  elemental  and  indefinable  he  tacitly  as- 
sumes, for  in  his  definition  of  them  he  goes  back  to  the  principle  of 
parallelism,  taking  for  granted  that  the  power  of  the  mind  in- 
creases and  decreases  as  the  bodily  activity  is  helped  or  hindered ; 4 
and  accordingly  defining  Icetitia  and  tristitia  as  passive  states  (pas- 
sions) “wherein  the  mind  passes  ( transit ) to  a greater”  — or  lesser 
— “perfection.”  In  its  development,  this  doctrine  of  the  emotions 
reveals  the  subtle  analyst  and  the  keen  student  of  the  human  mind. 
The  emotions  are  grouped  by  Spinoza,  according  to  their  object,  in 
two  main  classes,  forms  of  love  or  hate,  that  is,  of  joy  or  of  sorrow 

1 “ Ethics,”  III.,  g,  Schol.  Cf.  7,  8. 

2 III.,  Definitions  of  the  Emotions,  I.,  and  Explanation. 

3 IV.,  59,  first  Proof,  end. 

4 III.,  11 : “Whatever  increases  or  diminishes,  helps  or  hinders,  the  power  of 
activity  in  our  body,  the  idea  thereof  increases  or  diminishes,  helps  or  hinders,  the 
power  of  thought  in  our  mind.”  It  should  be  understood  that  this  section  is 
throughout  an  attempt  to  interpret,  rather  than  merely  to  expound,  Spinoza's 
doctrine  of  the  emotions. 


476  Continental  P hilosophers  through  Leibniz 


“with  the  accompanying  idea  of  an  external  cause.”  1 The  nature 
of  this  cause,  or  object,  of  the  emotions  is  virtually  the  control- 
ling consideration  in  the  grouping  of  them ; it  may  be  personal  or 
impersonal,  person  or  thing;  but  the  personal  emotions,  as  Spinoza 
does  not  fail  to  notice,  are  stronger  and  more  vivid.  He  assigns 
as  reason  the  illusion  of  human  freedom.  “Love  or  hatred,”  he 
says,  “towards  a thing  which  we  conceive  to  be  free,  must,  other 
conditions  being  similar,  be  greater  than  if  it  were  felt  towards  a 
thing  acting  by  necessity.  . . . Hence  it  follows,”  he  concludes, 
“that  men,  thinking  themselves  to  be  free,  feel  more  love  or  hatred 
towards  one  another  than  towards  anything  else.”  2 

(1)  Among  the  personal  emotions  the  most  important  contrast 
is  implied  between  the  egoistic  and  the  sympathetic.  In  the  former 
group  are  included  simple  love  and  hate,  and  also  those  emotions 
following  from  the  comparison  of  oneself  with  others,  pride  and 
vainglory,  humility  and  shame.  “These  emotions,  humility  and 
self-abasement  ( abjectio ),”  Spinoza  shrewdly  says,  “are  of  the 
rarest.  For  human  nature,  in  itself  considered,  struggles  against 
them  as  much  as  it  can ; and  thus  those  who  are  thought  to  be  most 
self-abased  and  humble,  are  generally  most  ambitious  and  envious.  ” 3 
Repentance,  on  Spinoza’s  theory,  simply  is  humility  with  the  il- 
lusion of  free  will.  “Repentance  (Pcenitentia) ,”  he  says,  “is  sad- 
ness, with  the  accompanying  idea  of  some  deed,  which  we  believe 
we  have  done  by  the  free  decision  of  the  mind.”  4 The  basal  emo- 
tions of  sympathy  are  joy  in  the  joy  of  another  or  sorrow  in  his 
sorrow.  “Whosoever,”  Spinoza  says,  “imagines  that  which  he 
loves  to  be  affected  with  joy  or  with  sorrow  will  be  affected  with 
joy  or  with  sorrow;  and  each  emotion  will  be  the  greater  or  the 
less  in  the  lover,  according  as  it  is  greater  or  less  in  the  thing 
loved.”  6 Evidently,  the  sympathetic  emotions,  thus  conceived, 
are  intensely  personal,  involving  the  explicit  realization  of  other 
selves  and  the  sharing  of  their  experience.  This  is  true,  also,  of 
the  mixed  emotions;  joy  in  that  “an  object  of  hatred  is  affected 

1 “ Ethics,”  III.,  13,  Schol.  2 III.,  49,  and  Corol. 

3 III.,  “ Definitions  of  the  Emotions,”  XXIX. 

4 Def.  XXVII.  Cf.  Prop.  30,  Schol;  Prop.  51,  Schol. 

6 III.,  21.  Spinoza  has  an  ostensibly  supplementary,  but  really  contradictory, 
account  of  the  sympathetic  emotions  which  is  less  true  to  the  most  trustworthy  in- 
trospection. According  to  this  view,  set  forth  in  Prop.  27,  after  the  manner  of 
Hobbes,  sympathy  is  conceived  as  an  involuntary  imitation,  bodily  and  mental, 
of  the  modifications  of  the  human  beings  who  resemble  us. 


Spinoza's  Doctrine  of  the  Affects  4 77 


with  sorrow”  and  sorrow  in  that  “the  same  object  is  affected  with 
joy.”  1 Spinoza  indiscriminately  calls  both  these  emotions  by  the 
same  name,  envy  ( invidia ). 

(2)  Besides  the  personal  emotions,  described  by  Spinoza  with 
peculiar  vigor  and  insight,  he  discusses  also  those  which  are  im- 
personal, — those,  in  other  words,  whose  cause  is  not  necessarily 
a person,  but  a thing  or  an  event.  Among  the  significant  emo- 
tions of  this  sort  are  hope  and  fear,  defined  as  “inconstant  joy  or 
sorrow  arising  from  the  idea  of  something  past  or  future  about 
whose  issue  we  are  somewhat  doubtful;”  2 despair,  conceived  as 
“sorrow  whose  source  is  the  idea  of  a thing,  future  or  past,  where- 
from the  cause  of  doubt  has  been  taken  away;”3  a group  of 
emotions  — consternation,  veneration,  horror,  and  devotion  4 — 
whose  common  feature  is  that  they  are  compounded  with  wonder 
(admiratio),  that  is,  fixed  attention  — itself  incorrectly  named  by 
Spinoza  among  the  emotions;  5 and,  finally,  a group  of  emotions 
defined  by  the  precise  nature  of  their  object,  as  avarice,  and  the 
love  of  luxury.6 

(b)  Parallel  with  these  emotions  of  joy  or  sorrow,  like  or 
dislike,  are  the  compounds  of  desire  ( cupiditas ) with  emotion 
proper.  Parallel,  for  example,  with  love  is  benevolence,  the  active 
impulse  to  benefit  the  loved  one ; 7 parallel  with  hate  is  cruelty ; 8 
coordinate  with  pride  is  ambition.9 

Toward  the  very  end  of  the  discussion10  Spinoza  makes  one 
further  cardinal  distinction  — basing  it,  to  be  sure,  on  the  early 
definitions  and  on  Propositions  1 and  3 of  Part  III  — between 
those  affects  “which  are  passions”  and  others,  either  desires  or 
emotions  of  joy,  not  of  sorrow,  “which  are  referred  to  us  in  so 
far  as  we  act  ( agimus ).”  By  activity  of  the  mind,  however, 
Spinoza  here  means  not,  as  before,  will,  endeavor,  or  striving, 
but  the  contemplation  of  adequate  ideas.11  The  confusion  of  the 

1 “ Ethics,”  III.,  Prop.  23.  Cf.  “ Definitions  of  the  Emotions,”  XXIII.,  and 
Prop.  35. 

2 III.,  Definitions  of  the  Emotions,  XII.  and  XIII.  Cf.  Prop.  r8. 

3 III.,  Definitions,  etc.,  XV. 

4 III.,  Prop.  52,  Schol. ; Definitions,  etc.,  XLII. 

6  III.,  Definitions  of  the  Emotions,  IV.  and  Explanation. 

6 III.,  Prop.  56,  Schol.;  Definitions,  etc.,  XLV.-XLVIII. 

7 III..  Definitions,  etc.,  XXXIV.,  XXXV.  Cf.  Prop.  41. 

8 Ibid.,  XXXVIII.  9 Ibid.,  XLIV.  Cf.  Prop.  39,  Schol. 

10  III.,  Props.  58.  59;  cf.  S3. 

11  Cf.  III.,  r : “ Our  mind  ...  in  so  far  as  it  has  adequate  ideas  ...  is  nec- 
essarily active,  and  in  so  far  as  it  has  inadequate  ideas  it  is  necessarily  passive.  ” 


478  Continental  P hilosophers  through  Leibniz 

two  conceptions  of  activity  constitutes  one  of  the  difficulties  of 
this  part  of  Spinoza’s  psychology. 

The  student  of  Spinoza  will  find  it  a stimulating  exercise  in  psy- 
chology if  he  tries,  on  the  basis  of  these  suggestions,  to  classify 
the  emotions  which  Spinoza  names.  No  summary,  however,  and 
no  condensation  can  reproduce  the  lifelike  accuracy  and  poignancy 
of  Spinoza’s  descriptions  of  the  emotions  — a portion  of  his 
“Ethics”  which  effectively  gives  the  lie  to  the  conventional  con- 
ception of  Spinoza  as  a logomachist  concerned  only  with  verbal 
distinctions  and  with  abstract  definitions. 


b.  The  Practical  Philosophy  of  Spinoza 


There  can  be  no  reasonable  doubt  that  Spinoza’s  entire  system 
has  been  formulated  as  a foundation  for  the  ethical  teaching  which 
the  fourth  and  fifth  Parts  of  his  “Ethics”  set  forth.  Already 
the  limits  of  this  ethical  system  have  been  suggested  by  the 
reiterated  teaching  that  human  freedom,  in  the  undeterminist 
sense,  is  a delusion.  For  from  this  it  follows  that  there  is  no  such 
thing  as  a moral  obligation  founded  on  the  freedom  of  the  in- 
dividual to  choose  one  of  two  courses  of  action.  On  the  contrary, 
the  acts  of  the  human  being  follow  with  necessity  from  the  nature  of 
God,  or  substance,  whereof  he  is  simply  a modification  or  expres- 
sion. In  spite  of  this  doctrine  of  the  rigid  necessity  of  human 
thoughts  and  actions  Spinoza  yet  insists  on  the  essential  freedom 
of  the  human  being.  Under  the  concept  of  freedom,  indeed, 
Spinoza,  like  Kant,  summarizes  all  the  characters  of  the  ideal 
moral  life.  He  thus  contrasts  what,  subjectively  regarded,  he 
calls  the  life  of  bondage,  the  irrational,  the  unvirtuous  life,  with 
the  life  of  freedom,  the  rational,  the  virtuous  life.  On  the  objec- 
tive side  — with  reference,  in  other  words,  not  to  the  character 
of  the  actor,  but  to  the  quality  of  the  act  or  the  situation  — he  con- 
trasts the  bad  or  irrational  with  the  good  or  rational.1  His  ethical 
doctrine  may  be  summed  up  in  the  following  statement:  The 
virtuous  man  is  he  who  lives  the  life  of  freedom  under  the  guidance 
of  reason ; in  other  words,  the  virtuous  man  possesses  an  adequate 
knowledge  of  himself  in  his  completeness,  as  related  to-th.ejrest  of 


1 “ Ethics,”  Pt.  IV.,  purports  to  treat  of  the  life  of  bondage  and  Pt.  V.  of  the 
life  of  freedom;  but  in  reality  the  two  are  continuous. 


The  Practical  P hilosophy  of  Spinoza  479 


humanity  and  to  God,  he  lives  a life  of  happy  activity  for  him- 
self and  for  others,  and  he  has  a joyful  knowledge  of  God.  The 
bad  man,  on  the  other  hand,  lives  the  irrational  life  of  bondage; 
he  has  an  inadequate  knowledge  involving  an  over-estimation  of 
himself,  and  because  he  lacks  reason  he  is  in  bondage  to  the  un- 
happy passive  emotions ; his  life  is  unsocial  and  therefore  self- 
destructive, and  he  does  not  attain  to  the  knowledge  of  God. 

The  ethical  doctrine  of  Spinoza,  thus  briefly  formulated,  is 
significant  as  a vital  fusion  of  certain  elements  usually  treated  in 
isolation  and  even  in  opposition.  (1)  In  the  first  place,  Spinoza 
asserts  — though  he  does  not,  it  must  be  admitted,  cogently  prove  1 
— the  reconciliation  of  intellectual  with  emotional  and  volitional 
factors.  The  moral  life,  as  Spinoza  views  it,  is  a life  of  thought, 
of  adequate  comprehension  of  oneself  in  all  one’s  relations;  but  it 
is  no  less  a life  of  action  and  a life  of  joy:  the  good  man  is  con- 
stantly described  as  one  who  “ lives  under  the  guidance  of  reason  ” ; 
and  “he  who  clearly  and  distinctly  understands  himself  and  his 
affects”  is  said  to  “feel  joy  (Icetitia).”  2 (2)  Spinoza’s  “Ethics,” 
in  the  second  place,  recognizes  the  essential  motives  both  of  asceti- 
cism and  of  hedonism.  A large  portion  of  his  definite  ethical 
teaching  3 consists  in  directions  for  holding  in  check  the  passive 
emotions.  These  directions  — based,  as  they  are,  on  keen  psy- 
chological insight  — are  of  abiding  practical  value.  “An  affect,” 
Spinoza  teaches,  “can  neither  be  controlled  nor  destroyed  except 
by  an  opposite  affect ; ” 4 and  he  goes  on  to  point  out  that,  other 
things  being  equal,  affects  whose  objects  are  certain  and  present 
and  near  at  hand  must  be  stronger  than  those  whose  objects  are 
doubtful,  absent,  and  remote.5  A later  counsel  to  control  emotion 
suggests  that  “we  form  a clear  and  distinct  idea  of  the  given  affect.”6 
The  two  directions  — first,  to  control  affect  by  affect;  second,  to 
control  affect  by  knowledge  — seem  at  first  sight  inconsistent  and 
it  is  possible  that  Spinoza  never  reconciled  them.  On  the  other 
hand,  we  may  suppose  him  to  imply  that  a preceding  affect,  namely 
desire,  is  necessary  in  order  to  change  emotion  into  idea. 

This  teaching  that  the  affects  must  be  held  in  check  represents 
the  rigoristic  side  of  Spinoza’s  “Ethics.”  It  never  leads  him, 

1 Cf.  infra,  p.  480  *,  for  Spinoza’s  argument  that  the  life  of  freedom  is  not  a life 
of  sorrow.  This,  however,  would  not  "rove  it  a life  of  positive  happiness. 

2 “ Ethics,”  V.,  13,  Proof.  3 IV.,  1-19,  and  V.,  1-13.  4 IV.,  7. 

5 IV.,  10-12.  6V.,  3. 


480  Continental  Philosophers  through  Leibniz 

however,  either  to  decry  all  emotion  as  non-moral  or,  in  a mood 
of  pessimistic  asceticism,  to  glorify  emotions  of  sadness.  On  the 
contrary,  he  estimates  the  moral  value  of  each  emotion  for  itself; 
and  the  most  important  principle  of  his  estimate  is  the  doctrine 
that  sorrow  is  in  itself  evil,  since  “he  who  rightly  has  discovered 
( novit ) that  all  things  follow  from  the  necessity  of  the  divine  nature 
and  come  to  pass  according  to  the  eternal  laws  of  nature,  clearly 
will  find  nothing  which  is  worthy  of  hate,  ridicule,  or  contempt, 
nor  will  he  pity  anything,  but  to  the  utmost  extent  of  human  virtue 
will  strive  to  do  well  (bene  agere ) . . . and  to  rejoice.”  1 This 
lesson  not,  as  Arnold  points  out,  of  “mere  resigned  acquiescence 
. . . but  of  joyful  activity  within  the  limits  of  man’s  true  sphere,”1 2 
is  that  by  which  Spinoza  most  impressed  himself  on  the  moral 
philosophy  of  the  later  eighteenth  century. 

The  doctrine  that  all  events  are  expressions  of  divine  necessity, 
and  that  consequently  all  emotions  which  involve  sadness  are  evil, 
supplies  Spinoza  with  a fruitful  principle  of  distinction.  Thus, 
hope  and  fear  are  evil  emotions, sharing, Spinoza  says,  ‘a  defect  of 
knowledge  and  a weakness  of  mind.’ 3 Even  humility,  he  teaches, 
“is  not  a virtue,  or  does  not  arise  from  reason.  Humility,”  he 
explains,  “is  sadness  which  rises  from  this,  that  a man  contem- 
plates his  powerlessness.  But  in  so  far  as  a man  knows  himself 
by  true  reason,  he  is  supposed  to  understand  his  essence,  that  is, 
his  power.”  4 Perhaps  the  most  vigorous  of  Spinoza’s  specific  ap- 
plications of  this  general  doctrine  is  found  in  his  teaching  of  the 
relation  between  hatred  and  love.  “All  emotions  of  hatred,”  he 
says,  “are  bad;  therefore  he  who  lives  under  the  guidance  of 
reason  will  try  so  far  as  he  can  not  to  be  assailed  by  such 
emotions  and  ...  to  prevent  his  fellow  from  suffering  them. 
But  hatred  . . . can  be  quenched  by  love  and  so  passes  over  into 
love,  therefore  he  who  lives  under  the  guidance  of  reason  will 
try  to  repay  hatred  with  love.”  Such  a man,  Spinoza  teaches, 
“fights  his  battle  with  confidence.”  5 

Not  merely  all  affects  of  sadness,  but  certain  pleasant  affects 
are,  in  Spinoza’s  opinion,  evil.  This  teaching,  it  will  be  observed, 
more  definitely  than  the  exhortation  to  control  desire,  distinguishes 
the  system  from  every  form  of  hedonism.  Spinoza,  it  is  true, 

1 “ Ethics,”  IV.,  50,  Schol.  • 2 “Essays  in  Criticism.” 

3 “ Ethics,”  IV.,  47,  Schol.  4 IV.,  53,  and  Proof.  6 IV.,  46,  Proof  and  Schol. 


The  Practical  Philosophy  of  Spinoza  481 


seems  at  times  to  identify  the  good  with  the  pleasant  and  the  evil  with 
the  unpleasant.  Thus  he  says  in  a Scholium  of  Proposition  39, 
Part  III.,  “By  good,  I here  understand  every  sort  of  joy  . . . 
and  by  evil  every  sort  of  sorrow;”  and  he  later  asserts,  in  Part 
IV.,  “The  knowledge  of  good  and  evil  is  nothing  else  but  the  emo- 
tions of  joy  and  sorrow.”  1 It  is,  however,  impossible  to  regard 
Spinoza  as  a hedonist.  He  utterly  forbids  such  a theory  by  this 
teaching  that  the  pleasurable  emotions  may  be  evil.  The  expres- 
sions which  suggest  hedonism  are  most  simply  interpreted  as  over- 
emphasis of  the  optimistic  doctrine  that  joy  accompanies  goodness. 
Of  the  pleasant  yet  evil  emotions  the  most  important  are,  in  the 
first  place,  excessive  and  self-contradictory  love  and  desire ; 2 
and,  in  the  second  place,  the  emotions,  pride  and  disparagement, 
which  involve  an  over-estimation  of  oneself.3 

(3)  The  last  of  these  teachings  suggests  the  third  of  the  eclectic 
or  harmonizing  aspects  of  Spinoza’s  “Ethics.”  It  has  already 
appeared  that  his  system,  spite  of  its  intellectualism,  does  justice 
to  the  emotional  and  volitional  aspects  of  human  life.  It  has 
been  evident,  also,  that  his  doctrine  of  sadness  as  essentially  evil 
is  tempered  both  by  the  recognition  of  certain  pleasures  as  evil 
and  by  practically  effective  directions  for  the  control  of  emo- 
tion. It  remains  to  show  that  Spinoza  recognizes  and  unites 
the  principles  of  individualistic,  socialistic,  and  theistic  ethics. 
Many  of  the  propositions  of  Part  IV.,  taken  by  themselves,  ex- 
press a narrow  and  emphatic  individualism.  “Since,”  Spinoza 
says,  “reason  makes  no  demands  contrary  to  nature,  it  demands 
that  each  love  himself,  and  seek  . . . that  which  is  really  useful  to 
him.”  4 “No  virtue,”  he  asserts,  a little  later,  “can  be  conceived 
prior  to  this:  the  endeavor  to  preserve  oneself.”  5 Yet  he  insists 
with  equal  emphasis  that  “the  good  which  every  man  who  follows 
after  virtue  seeks  ( appetit ) for  himself,  he  will  desire  also  for  the 
rest  of  mankind”; 6 and,  so  far  from  basing  this  doctrine  on  em- 
pirical observation,  he  says  that  “it  arises  not  by  accident,  but  from 

1 “ Ethics,”  IV.,  Prop.  8;  cf.  Prop.  19  for  repeated  assertion.  Cf.  also  20,  21, 
41.  The  definitions  of  Part  IV.  are  sometimes,  but  not  necessarily,  interpreted 
in  a hedonistic  sense. 

2 IV.,  44  and  60.  (Spinoza  refers  explicitly  only  to  inconsistent  desire.) 

3 IV.,  57,  Schol.  48.  4 IV.,  18,  Schol.  5 IV.,  22.  Cf.  24  and  25. 

6 IV.,  37,  Proof;  cf.  IV.,  18,  Schol.  “There  is  nothing  . . . more  excellent 
than  that  the  minds  and  bodies  of  all  should  form  as  it  were  one  mind  and  one 
body.” 


482  Continental  Philosophers  through  Leibniz 

the  very  nature  of  reason  that  man’s  highest  good  is  common  to 
all.”  1 For  the  life  of  freedom  is  the  life  of  reason,  and  reason  is, 
as  will  be  remembered,  conceived  by  Spinoza  as  a consciousness 
shared  with  others.  “It  follows  that  men,  in  so  far  as  they  live 
by  the  guidance  of  reason,  necessarily  do  only  those  things  which 
are  necessarily  good  for  human  nature  and  therefore  for  every 
man.”  2 

Thus  Spinoza  harmonizes  egoism  with  altruism  by  the  teaching 
that  the  one  involves  the  other.  The  endeavor  to  preserve  one’s 
own  being  demands  action  for  the  good  of  other  human  beings, 
since  one  is  oneself  a part  of  humanity,  or  — to  put  it  in  the  op- 
posite way  — since  the  other  human  beings  constitute  one’s  own 
larger  self.  This  consideration  leads  at  once  to  the  crowning 
doctrine  of  Spinoza’s  “Ethics.”  The  close  union  of  human 
beings  is  only  possible,  he  teaches,  in  that  they  are  one  and  all 
expressions  of  God.  Thus,  he  says,  in  a passage  already  quoted 
in  part:  “It  arises  from  the  very  nature  of  reason  that  man’s 
highest  good  is  common  to  all,  inasmuch  as  it  is  deduced  from  the 
very  essence  of  man,  in  so  far  as  he  is  defined  by  reason.  ...  For 
it  pertains  to  the  essence  of  the  human  mind  to  have  adequate 
knowledge  of  the  eternal  and  infinite  essence  of  God.”  These 
words  are  profoundly  consistent  with  Spinoza’s  system  of  epistemol- 
ogy and  of  metaphysics.  He  has  taught  that  completely  adequate 
knowledge  of  any  object  involves  a knowledge  of  God.3  Evi- 
dently, therefore,  the  complete  knowledge  of  oneself  and  one’s 
own  good  demands  not  merely  the  recognition  of  oneself  as  a 
member  of  humanity,  but  a knowledge  of  oneself  and  of  all  men  as 
expressing  God’s  nature,  a knowledge,  in  other  words,  “of  the 
eternal  and  infinite  essence  of  God.”  Thus  Spinoza’s  consum- 
mate conception  of  the  good  is  acquaintance  with  God.  “The 
mind’s  highest  good,”  he  says,  “is  the  knowledge  of  God  and  the 
mind’s  highest  virtue  is  to  know  God.” 4 And  since  adequate  knowl- 
edge is  companioned  by  joy,  “he  who  clearly  and  distinctly  un- 
derstands himself  . . . loves  God,”  and  “this  love  towards  God 
must  have  the  chief  place  in  the  mind.”  5 Such  love  toward  God, 
it  will  be  remembered,  rises  from  the  perfect  knowledge  of  him; 
and  this  knowledge  involves  the  consciousness  that  he  is  manifested 

1 “ Ethics,”  IV.,  36.  2 IV.,  35,  Proof.  3 1.,  16  scj.;  V.,  24-32.  4 IV.,  28. 

6 V.,  15  and  16;  cf.  32  and  33. 


Gottfried  Wilhelm  von  Leibniz 


483 


in  humanity,  consequently  “this  love  toward  God  cannot  be  stained 
by  the  emotion  of  envy  or  jealousy:  contrariwise  it  is  the  more 
inflamed  ( fovetur ) in  proportion  as  we  imagine  the  more  men 
joined  to  God  by  the  same  bond  of  love.1  ...  I have  thus 
completed,”  Spinoza  says,  “what  I wished  to  set  forth  touching 
. . . the  mind’s  freedom.2 

GOTTFRIED  WILHELM  VON  LEIBNIZ:  THE  PLURALISTIC 
SPIRITUALIST 

I.  Life  (1646-1716) 

There  is  no  philosopher  of  modern  times  whose  life  so  strongly 
as  that  of  Leibniz  confutes  the  theory  that  the  philosopher  is  of 
necessity  a dreamy  speculator,  a man  apart  from  the  concerns  of 
active  life.  To  Leibniz,  philosophy  was  the  resource  of  hours 
snatched  from  the  most  strenuous  concerns  of  diplomatic  and 
professional  service.  He  was  born  in  1646,  in  Leipzig,  the  son  of 
a university  professor  who  died  in  Gottfried’s  early  childhood. 
From  his  earliest  years  he  was  an  omnivorous  reader  and  a preco- 
cious student;  he  immersed  himself  successively  in  the  classics,  in 
mathematics,  and  in  philosophy.  He  entered,  at  fifteen,  the  univer- 
sity of  Leipzig,  concerned  himself  mainly  with  philosophical  study, 
and  two  years  later  published  his  earliest  work,  “De  principio 
individui.”  Turning  then  from  philosophy,  he  spent  one  semester 
in  mathematical  study  at  Jena,  and  thereafter  pursued  juristic 
studies,  taking  his  degree  in  1666  from  the  university  of  Altdorf. 

The  youth  of  twenty  then  received,  but  at  once  refused,  the  offer 
of  a professorship;  and  was  introduced  by  a Frankfort  friend, 
Boineburg,  to  the  Elector  of  Mainz,  Johann  Philip.  In  his 
service  Leibniz  remained  for  six  years,  that  is,  until  1672.  By 
the  elector’s  authority  he  drew  up  — two  hundred  years  ahead  of 

1 “ Ethics,”  V.  20. 

2 V.,  42,  Schol.  It  will  be  observed  that  this  account  of  Spinoza’s  ethical 
theory  disregards  a large  portion  of  Pt.  V.  Some  of  this  has  been  discussed  (cf. 
supra,  Chapter  8,  pp.  290  seq.  on  Props.  17,  35,  36),  in  considering  Spinoza’s  doc- 
trine of  the  personality  of  God.  The  propositions  on  which  no  comment  is 
made  are  those  which  present  an  argument,  inconsistent  with  Spinoza’s  general 
theory,  for  the  immortality  of  the  soul.  There  is  the  more  reason  for  neglecting 
these  since  Spinoza  himself  says  (V.,  41,  42) : ‘ ‘ Even  if  we  did  not  know  that  our 
mind  is  eternal,  we  should  still  hold  as  of  primary  importance  piety  and  religion. 
. . . Blessedness  is  not  the  reward  of  virtue,  but  is  virtue  itself.” 


484  Continental  Philosophers  through  Leibniz 

his  age  — a scheme  for  attaining  the  union  and  security  of  the 
German  states.  One  specific  means  for  this  end  was,  in  Leibniz’s 
mind,  the  effort  to  incite  the  powerful  French  king  to  undertake  the 
conquest  of  Egypt  from  the  Turks  — an  enterprise  which  could  not 
fail  to  divert  his  attention  from  his  neighbors,  Holland  and  Ger- 
many. The  scheme  was  submitted  to  Louis  XIV.,  and  in  its 
interest  Leibniz  went,  in  1672,  to  Paris.  But,  by  this  time,  Louis 
had  decided  on  the  war  with  Holland  and  an  understanding  with 
the  Turks;  and  Leibniz’s  far-seeing  plans  had  no  immediate 
result.  They  were  carried  out  independently  of  each  other,  long 
years  after  his  death,  by  the  first  Napoleon  and  by  Bismarck. 

Leibniz’s  patrons,  Boineburg  and  the  Elector  of  Maintz,  died 
in  1672  and  in  early  1673.  He  himself  spent  the  three  following 
years  in  Paris,  making  a visit  to  London  in  the  first  months  of 
1673.  For  the  most  part,  these  years  were  given  over  to  a study 
of  mechanics,  and  especially  of  physics,  which  culminated  in  the 
discovery,  published  many  years  later,  of  the  differential  calculus. 
In  1676,  he  accepted  the  invitation  of  Duke  Johann  Friedrich  to 
become  librarian  and  counsellor  at  the  court  of  Hanover.  He 
directed  his  journey  from  Paris  through  The  Hague,  and  visited 
Spinoza,  ostensibly  to  discuss  optics,  really  — we  have  reason  to 
think  — to  confer  on  philosophical  subjects.1 

The  history  of  the  remaining  forty  years  of  the  life  of  Leibniz 
is  one  of  undeviating  fidelity  and  of  efficient  service  to  the  House 
of  Hanover.  Leibniz  was  court  librarian,  historian,  and  dip- 
lomatic adviser,  under  three  successive  princes.  He  directed  pro- 
ductive mining  industries,  travelled  widely  to  collect  materials 
for  his  great  history  of  the  House  of  Hanover,  interested  himself 
in  plans  for  the  union  of  the  Protestant  and  the  Catholic  churches, 
attempted  the  foundation  of  academies  of  science  in  Berlin, 
Vienna,  and  St.  Petersburg,  and  was  appointed  privy  counsellor, 
by  the  Electors  of  Hanover  and  of  Brandenburg  and  — late  in 
his  lifetime  — by  Peter  the  Great.  Incidentally,  he  wrote  letters, 
notices,  and  monographs  on  philosophical  themes.  For  the  last 
seven  years  of  the  life  of  his  warm  friend,  the  Hanoverian  princess, 
Sophie  Charlotte  first  queen  of  Prussia,  Leibniz  spent  much  time 
at  her  court  in  Berlin  and  in  Liitzenburg  (now  Charlottenburg). 
Through  her,  he  succeeded  in  his  efforts  to  found  the  Berlin 

1 Cf.  L.  Stein,  “Leibniz  und  Spinoza,”  cited  supra. 


Gottfried  Wilhelm  von  Leib7iiz 


485 


Academy;  to  meet  her  difficulties,  he  undertook  his  “The- 
odicy ” ; to  her  keen  mind  he  furnished  impetus  and  philosophic 
guidance. 

The  last  years  of  the  life  of  Leibniz  were  shadowed  by  neglect 
and  ingratitude.  His  patroness,  the  elder  Sophie  Charlotte  of 
Hanover,  died ; and  the  Elector  of  Hanover  was  crowned  George 
I.  of  England,  but  forbade  the  attendance  of  Leibniz  at  the  Eng- 
lish court.  Unnoticed  and  almost  unmourned,  he  died  in  1716. 

II.  Bibliography 

a.  Chief  Philosophical  Writings 

(Most  of  these  works  appeared  in  journals  no  longer  to  be  obtained,  and 
references  are  therefore  given  to  the  accessible  editions.  For  list  of  editions, 
including  translations,  see  below.) 

1663.  “De  principio  individui,”  Leipz.  Hrsg.  v.  G.  E.  Guhrauer,  Berl.,  1837. 
1684.  “Meditationes  de  cognitione,  veritate,  et  ideis.”  In  Acta  Erudi- 
torum.  (Gerhardt,  IV.;  Erdmann;  French:  Janet;  Engl.: 
Duncan.) 

1686.  “Discours  de  metaphysique.”  (Ed.  C.  L.  Grotefend,  Hannov.,  1846. 
Gerh.,  IV. ; Engl.:  Montgomery.) 

1686-1690.  “ Correspondance  de  Leibniz  et  d’Arnauld”  (Ed.  Grotefend, 
ibid.;  Gerh.,  II. ; French:  Janet.;  Engl.:  Montgomery.) 

1694.  “De  primae  philosophise  emendatione  et  de  notione  substantiae.”  In 

Acta  Eruditorum.  (Gerh.,  IV.;  Erd.;  French:  Janet;  Engl.: 
Duncan.) 

1695.  “ Systeme  nouveau  de  la  nature  et  de  la  communication  des  substances,” 

Journal  des  savants,  1695.  (Gerh.,  IV. ; Erd.;  French:  Janet; 
Engl.:  “New  System,”  Duncan,  Latta.) 

1696.  “Eclaircissements  (1-3)  du  nouveau  systeme.”  Ibid.  (Replies  to  an 

objection  of  Foucher.) 

1697.  “De  rerum  originatione  radicali.”  (Gerh.,  VII.;  Erdm.;  French: 

Janet;  Engl.:  Duncan.) 

1705.  “Nouveaux  essais  sur  l’entendement,”  publ.  Leipz.,  1765.  (Gerh., 
V.;  Erdm.;  Janet;  Engl.:  “New  Essays,”  Langley.) 

A criticism,  chapter  by  chapter,  of  Locke’s  “Essay.” 

1710.  “Essais  de  theodicee,  sur  la  bonte  de  Dieu,  la  liberte  de  l’homme,  et 
l’origine  du  mal.”  Amst.  (Gerh.,  VI. ; Erdm. ; Janet.  English 
translation  of  the  Abrege,  a summary  of  the  Theodicee,  Duncan.) 
1714.  “Principes  de  la  nature  et  de  la  grace.”  In  L’Europe  savante,  1718. 

(Gerh.,  VI.;  Erdm.;  Janet;  Engl.:  “Principles  of  Nature  and 
Grace,”  Duncan,  Latta.) 

(1714.)  “La  monadologie,”  publ.  Berl.,  1840.  (Gerh.,  VI.;  Erdm.;  Janet; 

Latin:  in  Acta  Eruditorum,  1721;  Engl.:  Duncan,  Latta, 

Montgomery.) 


486  Continental  Philosophers  through  Leibniz 


1715-1716.  “A  Collection  of  Papers  . . . between  the  Learned  Mr.  Leibniz 
and  Dr.  Clarke  . . . relating  to  the  Principles  of  Natural  Phi- 
losophy and  Religion,”  Lond.,  1717.  (The  original  edition  con- 
tains both  French  and  English  texts  of  Leibniz’s  and  of  Clarke’s 
letters.  Gerh.,  VII.;  Erdm.;  Janet.) 

1820.  “Lettres  au  Pere  Malebranche.”  In  Melanges,  Soc.  des  Bibliophiles, 
1820.  (Gerh.,  I.;  Erdm.) 

1854.  “Refutation  de  Spinoza.”  (Lat.  and  French:  in  Foucher  de  Careil’s 
“Letters  et  opuscules  inedits  de  Leibniz.”  Engl.:  Duncan.) 

b.  Most  Accessible  Editions  and  Translations 

Gerhardt,  C.  J.,  “Die  philosophischen  Schriften  des  Leibniz,”  7 vols.,  Berk, 
1875-90.  (The  most  nearly  complete  edition  of  the  philosophical 
works;  preceded  by  Gerhardt’s  edition  of  “Leibnizen  mathematischen 
Schriften,”  Halle,  1850-63.) 

Erdmann,  J.  E.,  “Opera  philosophica,”  Berl.,  1839-40;  2 parts.  (Excellent 
edition;  lacks  “Discourse,  Arnaud  Letters,”  and  other  material;  out 
of  print.) 

Janet,  P.,  “CEuvres  philosophiques,”  2 vols.,  Paris,  1866.  (Lacks  “Dis- 
course, Letters  to  Malebranche,”  etc.) 

Careil,  A.  Foucher  de,  “Lettres  et  opuscules  inedits,”  Paris,  1857. 

Duncan,  G.  M.,  “Philosophical  Works,”  New  Haven,  1890,  pp.  392.  (In- 
cludes shorter  philosophical  works  and  selections  from  longer  ones.  Out 
of  print,  1906.) 

Langley,  A.  G.,  “New  Essays  concerning  Human  Understanding,  with  . . . 
Some  of  the  Shorter  Pieces.”  Lond.  and  N.  Y.,  1896. 

Latta,  R.,  “The  Monadology  and  other  Philosophical  Writings  of  Leibniz,” 
Oxford,  1898. 

Montgomery,  G.  R.,  “Discourse  on  Metaphysics,  Correspondence  with 
Arnauld,  and  Monadology,”  Open  Court  Co.,  Chicago,  1902. 


c.  Commentary  and  Criticism 

Russell,  B.,  “A  Critical  Exposition  of  the  Philosophy  of  Leibniz,”  Camb., 
1900,  pp.  300. 

Dewey,  J.,  “Leibniz’s  New  Essays  concerning  the  Human  Understanding. 

A Critical  Exposition,”  Chicago,  1888,  pp.  272. 

Couturat,  L.,  “La  logique  de  Leibniz,”  Paris,  1900. 

“Sur  la  metaphysique  de  Leibniz.”  Revue  de  Metaphysique  et 
de  Morale,  1902,  X.,  pp.  1-23. 

Dillman,  E.,  “Eine  neue  Darstellung  der  Leibnkischen  Monadenlehre  auf 
Grand  der  Quellen,”  Leipz.,  1891,  pp.  525. 

Eucken,  R.,  “Leibniz  und  Geulincx,”  Philos.  Monatshejt,  XIX.,  1883. 
Lotze,  R.,  “Metaphysik,”  Bk.  I.,  Chapters  5-6.  (Engl.:  Bosanquet,  Oxf., 
1887.) 

Renouvier,  C.,  et  Prat,  L.,  “La  nouvelle  monadologie,”  Paris,  1899,  pp.  546. 


British  Philosophers  through  Hume  487 


Selver,  D.,  “Der  Entwicklungsgang  der  Leibnizischen  Monadenlehre  bis 
1695,”  Dissertation,  Leipz.,  1885. 

Trendelenburg,  A.,  In  “ Monatsberichte  der  Berl.  Akad.  der  Wiss.,”  1847, 
1852,  1856. 

Among  histories  of  philosophy  consult  without  fail  those  of  Erdmann  and 
of  Fischer.  Cf.  also  bibliographies  of  Descartes  and  of  Spinoza. 

d.  Biography 

Guhrauer,  G.  E.,  “Leibniz;  eine  Biographic.”  2 vols.  Breslau,  1842,  1846. 

(Cf.  Mackie,  Pfleiderer,  Wolff,  cited  by  Rand.) 

C.  BRITISH  PHILOSOPHERS  THROUGH  HUME 
I.  MATERIALISTS  AND  THEIR  OPPONENTS 
THOMAS  HOBBES:  THE  PLURALISTIC  MATERIALIST 
I.  Life  (1588-1679) 

Thomas  Hobbes  was  the  son  of  an  unlearned  middle-class 
clergyman  who  lost  his  living  because  he  struck  down  a man  at 
his  own  church  door.  He  was  educated,  by  his  uncle,  at  Oxford; 
but  the  Oxford  of  his  day  was  bound  down  to  a classical  and 
mediaeval  tradition.  It  offered,  for  example,  no  instruction  in 
mathematics,  which  it  regarded  as  a black  art.  Hobbes  found 
nothing  to  interest  or  to  stimulate  him  in  the  university,  which  later 
he  criticised  with  great  bitterness.  He  left  Oxford,  when  he  was 
twenty  years  old,  in  1608,  and  became  the  travelling  tutor  and 
companion  of  the  son  of  the  Earl  of  Cavendish,  soon,  through  the 
death  of  his  father,  to  become  head  of  the  family.  For  twenty 
years  Hobbes  occupied  this  position,  enjoying  travel  and  giving 
himself  also  to  classical  study.  In  1628  he  published  the  first 
result  of  his  study  — a vigorous  and  accurate  translation  of  Thu- 
cydides. 

This  year  of  1628,  in  which  Hobbes  was  forty  years  old,  was  the 
time  of  his  philosophical  quickening.  The  Earl  of  Cavendish 
died;  Hobbes  made  his  third  journey  to  the  Continent;  and  for  the 
first  time  in  his  life,  he  opened  a treatise  on  geometry  — Euclid’s 
“Elements”;  and  at  once  he  set  himself  with  fairly  passionate 
interest  upon  the  study  of  geometry  and  mechanics  — the  inves- 
tigation of  the  laws  of  spatial  relation  and  physical  motion, 
which  determined  the  whole  course  of  his  metaphysics.  The  ten 
years  succeeding  this  awakening  were  years  of  intellectual  activity 


488  British  Philosophers  through  Hume 


unmarked  by  any  publication.  Hobbes  concerned  himself  not 
only  for  metaphysics  and  physics,  but  for  psychological  and  social 
theory  as  well.  In  1640  he  had  formulated  and  promulgated  in 
manuscript  his  psychological  and  political  doctrines.  In  that  same 
year  — moved  very  likely  by  his  natural  timidity  to  withdraw  from 
the  possibility  of  damaging  political  associations,  during  the 
years  of  civil  war  — he  left  England  for  Paris,  where  he  lived 
until  1651.  During  part  of  these  years  he  was  tutor  to  the  ban- 
ished Prince  of  Wales,  later  Charles  II. ; and  during  all  the  time 
he  enjoyed  the  society  of  scientists  and  mathematicians  — Gas- 
sendi, Mersenne,  and  others. 

The  publication,  in  1651,  of  the  “Leviathan,”  the  first  of  his 
political  works  to  be  published  in  English,  won  for  Hobbes  the 
disfavor  both  of  the  ecclesiastical  party  and  of  the  royalists,  then 
in  exile  in  Paris.  The  churchmen  resented  his  theory  that  the 
church  should  be  subject  to  the  government,  and  the  royalists 
objected  strenuously  to  his  doctrine  that  it  is  lawful  to  submit  to 
the  conquerors  of  a vanquished  monarch.  Because  of  the  distrust 
of  both  parties,  Hobbes  returned  to  England,  where  he  pub- 
lished, in  1655,  the  summary  of  his  metaphysical  doctrine,  called 
“De  Corpore.” 

The  last  twenty-five  years  of  the  life  of  Hobbes  were  embittered 
by  constant  conflicts  and  disputes.  These  ranged  around  three 
subjects.  One  quarrel,  notably  with  Ward  and  with  Wallis, 
professors  of  mathematics  at  Oxford,  concerned  Hobbes’s  stric- 
tures on  the  universities  1 — criticisms  which  applied  more  fairly 
to  the  university  of  Hobbes’s  youth  than  to  the  greatly  reformed 
Oxford  of  the  middle  seventeenth  century.  The  honors  of  this 
controversy  remained  with  the  philosopher’s  opponents.  They 
were,  of  course,  more  influential  than  Hobbes,  and  one  of  them, 
John  Fell,  the  dean  of  Christ  Church,  expunged  a reference  to 
Hobbes  from  the  Latin  translation  of  Wood’s  “History  of  Antiq- 
uities of  Oxford,”  and  himself  described  Hobbes  in  these  uncom- 
plimentary terms:  irritabile  illud  et  vanissimum  Malmesburiense 
animal.  A second  contest,  in  which,  also,  Hobbes  was  doubtless 
in  the  wrong,  centred  about  his  mathematical  theories,  notably 
his  attempt  at  the  quadrature  of  the  circle.  Hobbes  had  entered  on 
mathematical  study  too  late  in  life  to  pit  himself  against  well- 

1 Cf.  “Leviathan,”  Pt.  I.,  Chapter  1,  end;  Pt.  IV.,  Chapter  46. 


Thomas  Hobbes  489 

trained  scholars;  but  he  maintained  his  positions  with  a vigor  of 
invective  worthy  of  a better  cause.1 

But  the  bitterest  of  all  quarrels  was  that  in  which  Hobbes  sought 
to  defend  himself  against  the  accusations  of  atheistic  and  immoral 
teaching  which  haunted  him  throughout  his  life  and  persisted 
for  decades  after  his  death.  Writers,  theological  and  philosophical, 
many  of  them  incapable  of  understanding  Hobbes,  united  in  these 
clamorous  charges  against  him.  The  clergyman  who  wrote  the 
“Dialogue  between  Philautes  and  Timothy”  (London,  1673) 
fairly  illustrates  the  critics  of  Hobbes’s  own  age,  who  believed  that 
Hobbes  had  “ said  more  for  a bad  life  and  against  any  other  life 
after  this  than  ever  was  pleaded  by  philosopher  or  divine  to  the 
contrary.”  The  allusions  of  Locke  and  Berkeley  to  ‘ that  atheist 
Hobbes  ’ reflect  the  opinions  of  the  generations  following.  To 
his  contemporary  critics,  Hobbes  replied  by  publishing  vehement 
Letters  and  Answers,  of  which  the  best  known  is,  perhaps,  “An 
Answer  to  a Book  published  by  Dr.  Bramhall  . . . called  Catching 
of  ‘ Leviathan  ’ ” (1682).  No  one  can  really  read  Hobbes’s  books 
without  agreeing  in  the  main  with  his  protestations.  Hobbes 
certainly  teaches  that  there  is  a God,  and  that  faith  in  Jesus 
Christ  is  the  supreme  religious  duty.  True,  he  also  teaches  that 
God  is  corporeal,  but  only  in  the  sense  in  which,  as  he  believes, 
men,  also,  are  purely  corporeal.  However  theoretically  unjusti- 
fied the  doctrine,  it  is  certainly  compatible  — as  Hobbes  holds 
it  — with  religious  teaching.  The  ethics  of  Hobbes,  also,  inculcates 
all  the  practical  duties  of  a Christian  morality,  though  it  founds 
them  on  a psychologically  inadequate  basis : the  assumption  that 
all  men  are  radically  selfish.  In  a word,  Hobbes  was  unfairly 
treated;  his  reputation  suffered  unjustly;  and  — more  unfor- 
tunate than  all  — the  suspicion  of  his  atheism  kept  people  from  the 
study  of  his  vigorous  metaphysics  and  his  acute  psychology. 

Truth  to  tell,  the  suspicion  of  immorality  attached  to  Hobbes 
not  so  much  for  any  teaching  of  his,  as  because  Charles  II.,  who 
was  kindly  disposed  to  his  old  tutor,  and  also  highly  diverted  by 
the  doctrine  of  Hobbes,  had  allowed  the  philosopher  a pension. 
Hence  the  license  of  that  notorious  court  of  the  second  Charles 
was  illogically  laid  at  the  door  of  Hobbes’s  materialism,  and 

1 Cf.  Introduction,  p.  xix.,  of  the  Open  Court  edition  of  Hobbes’s  “Concerning 
Body.” 


490  British  Philosophers  through  Hume 


‘Hobbist’  became  a mere  synonym  for  ‘free  liver.’  Hobbes  him- 
self, for  all  his  doughty  replies  to  his  adversaries,  was  apparently 
terrified  by  their  onslaughts,  especially  when,  in  1666,  a parlia- 
mentary bill  ordered  a committee  to  receive  information  “concern- 
ing a book,  ‘ Leviathan.’  ” The  bill  was  dropped,  but  the  transla- 
tion, in  1668,  of  the  “ Leviathan  ” into  Latin,  toned  down  the 
ecclesiastical  portions  in  a marked  degree ; and  Hobbes  refrained 
'from  the  publication  of  any  other  political  works.  He  lived  to 
be  ninety-one  years  old,  vigorous  to  the  end  in  intellect  and  in 
capacity. 

II.  Bibliography 

a.  Chief  Works  of  Hobbes,  in  order  of  Publication 

(References  are  to  “English  Works,”  cited  as  “E.  W.”  and  to  “Opera 
Latina,”  cited  as  “Op.  Lat.,”  both  edited  by  Molesworth.  Cf.  infra,  p.  491.) 
1628.  “Eight  Books  of  the  Peloponnesian  War,  written  by  Thucydides  . . . 

Interpreted  with  Faith  and  Diligence  immediately  out  of  the 
Greek”  (“E.  W. ,”  VIII.  and  IX.). 

1642.  “Elementorum  Philosophise  Sectio  Tertia  de  Cive,”  Paris. 

(The  earliest  printed  form  of  Hobbes’s  doctrine  of  the  state.  Re- 
printed as  “Elementa  Philosophica  de  Cive,”  Amst.  1647. 
“Op.  Lat.”  II.) 

1650.  “De  Corpore  Politico,  or  The  Elements  of  Law,  Moral  and  Politick,” 
Lond.  (“E.  W. IV.) 

1650.  “Human  Nature  or  the  Fundamental  Elements  of  Policie,”  Lond. 

(Written  in  1640,  “E.  W.,”  IV.). 

1651.  “Leviathan:  Or  the  Matter,  Form  and  Power  of  a Commonwealth, 

Ecclesiastical  and  Civil,”  Lond. 

(The  best  known  and  most  vigorous  discussion  of  the  political 
theory  of  Hobbes.  “E.  W.,”  III.  For  later  edition,  see  below.) 

1654.  “Of  Liberty  and  Necessity,”  Lond. 

(Written  in  1646  as  part  of  a private  discussion  with  Bishop 
Bramhall ; published  without  the  consent  of  Hobbes,  “ E.  W.,”  IV.) 

1655.  “Elementorum  Philosophise  Sectio  Prima:  De  Corpore,”  Lond. 

(“Op.  Lat.”  I.). 

1656.  “Concerning  Body,”  Lond. 

(A  translation,  corrected  by  Hobbes,  of  the  work  just  named. 
The  Latin  work  and  its  English  translation  contain  the  mental, 
physical,  and  the  mathematical  teaching  of  Hobbes,  “E.  W.,”  I. 
For  later  edition,  see  below.) 

1656.  “Six  Lessons  to  the  Professors  of  the  Mathematics,  ...  in  the 
Chairs  set  up  by  . . . Sir  Henry  Savile  in  the  University  of  Ox- 
ford.” 

(The  first  of  the  controversial  works  on  mathematics  issued  jt 
short  intervals  during  the  rest  of  Hobbes’s  life.  “Op. Lat.,”  IV. J 


The  Cambridge  Platojiists 


491 


1675.  “The  Iliads  and  Odysseys  of  Homer  . . . With  a large  preface  con- 
cerning the  Virtues  of  an  Heroic  Poem  ” (“E.  W.,”  X.). 

1679.  “Vita  Ejus  Latino  Carmine”  (“Op.  Lat.,”  I.). 

1680.  “Behemoth:  The  History  of  the  Causes  of  the  Civil  Wars  of  England 

. . . from  the  Year  1640  to  the  Year  1660  (“E.  W.,”  VI.). 

For  complete  and  topical  annotated  list  of  Hobbes’s  writings,  cf.  “ The 
Metaphysical  System  of  Hobbes,”  ed.  Calkins,  pp.  xviii.  seq.,  cited  below. 

b.  Editions 

“English  Works,”  in  11  vols.,  and 

“Opera  Latina,”  in  5 vols.,  ed.  Wm.  Molesworth,  Lond.,  1839-45. 
“Leviathan,”  ed.  T.  Thornton,  Oxf.  1881. 

“The  Metaphysical  System  of  Hobbes,  as  Contained  in  Twelve  Chapters  of 
‘Concerning  Body’  and  in  Briefer  Extracts  from  his  ‘Human  Nature’ 
and  ‘Leviathan,’  ” ed.  M.  W.  Calkins,  Chicago,  1905. 

“The  Ethics  of  Hobbes,”  ed.  E.  H.  Sneath,  1898.  (“Leviathan,”  Parts  I. 

and  II.;  and  “De  Corpore  Politico,”  Chapters  6 and  7.) 

“The  Philosophy  of  Hobbes  in  Extracts  and  Notes  from  his  Writings,”  ed. 
F.  J.  Woodbridge,  1903.  (Part  I.  of  “ Concerning  Body”  and  extracts 
from  other  works,  mainly  from  “Leviathan.”) 

c.  Commentaries  and  Criticisms 

Robertson,  G.  C. : “Hobbes,”  Edin.  and  Lond.,  1886  (Philosophical  Classics). 
Tonnies,  F. : “Hobbes’  Leben  und  Lehre,”  Stuttgart,  1896,  pp.  226. 

Stephen,  L. : “Hobbes,”  Lond.,  1904.  (Largely  biographical.) 

Sigwart,  H.  C.  W.  von:  “ Vergleichung  der  Rechts-  und  Staats-  Theorieen 
des  B.  Spinoza  u.  des  T.  Hobbes,”  Tub.,  1842. 

Montuori,  R. : “11  Principe  del  Macchiavelli  e la  Politica  di  Hobbes,”  in 
Rivista  Filosofica,  Jan.,  Feb.,  1905. 

Cf.  bibliography  of  contemporary  criticism  in  “Op.  Lat.,”  I.,  p.  lxix. 
seq.;  bibliography  in  Sneath’s  edition,  cited  above;  and  Eachard,  Wallis, 
Ward,  Brandt,  and  Lange,  cited  by  Rand. 

OPPONENTS  OF  MATERIALISM:  THE  CAMBRIDGE  PLA- 
TONISTS 

Henry  More  (1614-87). 

“Opera  Omnia,”  Lond.,  1675-79.  (Cf.  G.  N.  Dolson, Philos.  Rev.,  1897.) 
Ralph  Cud  worth  (1617-88). 

1678.  “The  True  Intellectual  System  of  the  Universe,”  Lond.  (An  erudite 
survey  and  refutation  of  the  “atomic”  and  “hylozoic”  material- 
ism ; coupled  with  an  argument  for  the  existence  of  God.) 
“Works,”  4 vols.,  Lond.,  1829.  (Cf.  W.  R.  Scott,  “An  Introduc- 
tion to  Cudworth’s  Treatise,”  Lond.,  1891.) 

John  Norris  (1657-1711). 

1701-04.  “Essay  toward  the  Theory  of  the  Ideal  or  Intelligible  World,” 

2 Pts.,  Lond.  (A  Platonized  restatement  of  Malebranche’s  doc- 
trine of  “seeing  all  things  in  God.”) 


492  British  Philosophers  through  Hume 

1724.  “Reason  and  Religion,”  Lond.,  7th  ed. 

1697.  “An  Account  of  Reason  and  Faith  ..  . in  Relation  to  the  Mysteries  of 
Christianity,”  Lond.,  14th  ed.,  1790.  (A  reply  to  John  Toland.) 
Richard  Burthogge  (1638  7-1694  ?). 

1677.  “Organum  vetus  et  novum.” 

1694.  “An  Essay  upon  Reason  and  the  Nature  of  Spirits.” 

LATER  BRITISH  MATERIALISTS  (DEISTS)1 
John  Toland  (1670-1721). 

1696.  “Christianity  not  Mysterious,”  Lond. 

1704.  “Letters  to  Serena,”  Lond. 

1720.  “Pantheisticon,”  Lond. 

David  Hartley  (1705-57). 

1749.  “Observations  on  Man,”  2 vols.,  Lond. 

Joseph  Priestley  (1733-1804). 

1777.  “Disquisitions  relating  to  Matter  and  Spirit.”  “Doctrine  of  Philo- 

sophical Necessity.” 

1778.  “ A Free  Discussion  of  the  Doctrines  of  Materialism  and  Philosophi- 

cal Necessity,”  Lond. 

“Works,”  25  vols.,  Lond.,  1817-31. 

II.  DUALISTS  OF  THE  ENLIGHTENMENT 

The  Enlightenment  is  a term  applied  generally  and  rather  vaguely 
to  most  of  the  philosophy  of  the  eighteenth  century,  British  and  Conti- 
nental. The  prominent  characters  of  the  period  are  (1)  an  opposition 
to  tradition  and  to  system,  in  particular,  to  that  of  the  church;  and 
(2)  a marked  individualism.  (Cf.  Leslie  Stephen,  “History  of  English 
Thought  in  the  Eighteenth  Century,”  Lond.,  1876.) 

JOHN  LOCKE  (1632-1704) 

I.  Life 

The  freedom  of  the  individual  is  the  dominant  note  in  all  the 
works  of  Locke  as  it  is  the  keynote  of  his  life.  His  life  falls  within 
the  century  which  fought  out  for  England  the  battle  for  the  rights 
of  the  individual  against  both  monarch  and  church.  In  such  a 
time  a man  must  have  convictions,  and  Locke  carried  into  philoso- 
phy and  into  religion  the  principles  which  he  defended  in  politics. 
Whether  he  talked  of  education,  of  government,  or  of  theology, 
always  he  claimed  in  the  last  resort  the  right  and  the  duty  of  the 
individual  to  free  action  in  accordance  with  reason.  Locke  was 
the  son  of  a genial  puritan  lawyer  of  Somerset,  a man  who  fought 
on  the  side  of  Parliament.  From  Westminster  School,  the  younger 
Locke  went  at  twenty  to  Oxford,  where,  because  he  would  not 

1 Cf.  infra,  pp.  494,  503. 


John  Locke 


493 


take  notes  “ deferentially,”  he  was  regarded  as  “ a man  of  turbu- 
lent spirit,  clamorous  and  discontented.”1  The  philosophy  of  the 
schools  concerned  him  little,  but  Descartes  stirred  him,  and  the 
growing  study,  in  large  part  unacademic,  of  natural  science  claimed 
his  ardent  interest.  As  student,  tutor,  fellow,  he  spent  fifteen 
years  in  Oxford;  leaving  the  university  town  in  1667  at  the  bidding 
of  the  first  Lord  Shaftesbury.  In  the  next  sixteen  years  he  served 
Shaftesbury  now  as  tutor  to  his  son,  now  as  secretary,  always  as 
friend.  He  gained  the  friendship  also  of  Shaftesbury’s  intimates 
and  spent  four  full  years  in  France  with  Herbert,  later  Earl  of 
Pembroke.  It  was  inevitable  that  Locke’s  fortunes  should  vacil- 
late with  those  of  his  stout-hearted  patron,  and  in  1683  he  followed 
Shaftesbury  in  voluntary  exile  to  Holland.  He  returned  to  Eng- 
land in  1689,  in  the  ship  which  carried  the  Princess  of  Orange. 
In  the  years  which  followed,  he  filled  positions  of  trust  and  published 
the  books,  philosophical  and  political,  which  he  had  written  in  the 
time  of  his  seclusion.  The  last  years  of  his  life  he  spent  in  the 
home  of  Sir  Francis  Masham,  illustrating  by  his  letters  and  his 
conversation  that  gift  for  friendship  which  was  perhaps  his  great- 
est endowment. 

II.  Bibliography 

a.  Chief  Works  and  Editions 

1690.  “An  Essay  concerning  Human  Understanding,”  Lond.  (32d  ed., 
i860.  Authoritative  edition  with  notes,  that  of  A.  C.  Fraser, 
Oxf.,  1894.  Edition  of  Books  II.  and  IV.  (with  omissions)  pre- 
ceded by  the  English  version  of  Le  Clerc’s  “Eloge  historique  de 
feu  Mr.  Locke,  ”ed.  M.  W.  Calkins,  Open  Court  Co.,  2d  ed.,  1906.) 

Locke’s  “Essay,”  the  first  widely  influential  English  book  on  metaphysics 
and  psychology,  discusses  “the  original,  certainty  and  extent  of  human 
knowledge.”  Locke  opposes  (in  Book  I.)  the  doctrine  of  innate  ideas,  by 
which  he  means  ready-made  pieces  of  information;  offers  (in  Book  II.)  a 
psychological  analysis  of  the  human  consciousness;  and  restates  (in  Books  II. 
and  IV.),  after  his  own  independent  and  inimitably  vigorous  fashion,  Des- 
cartes’s dualistic  philosophy.  Book  III.  is  a largely  parenthetical  discussion 
of  general  terms.  The  main  divergences  of  Locke  from  Descartes  (and  addi- 
tions to  Descartes)  are  (1)  Locke’s  teaching  that  solidity  as  well  as  extension 
is  a quality  of  matter  (II.,  Chapter  8);  (2)  his  conception  of  substance  as 
support  of  qualities  (II.,  Chapter  23)  ; (3)  his  curious  distinction  of  “spiritual 
substance,”  or  “soul,”  from  “person”  (II.,  Chapter  27)  ; (4)  his  emphasized 
argument  for  the  existence  of  “corporeal  bodies,”  from  the  occurrence  of 
ideas  which  “force  themselves  upon  me  ” (IV.,  Chapter  11). 

1 Fraser,  “ Locke’s  Essay,”  I.,  pp.  xix.  seg. 


494 


British  Philosophers  through  Hume 


1689.  “Epistola  de  Tolerantia.”  Engl.:  transl.  W.  Popple,  Lond.,  1689. 

1690,  1692.  “Second  and  Third  Letter  for  Toleration.” 

1690.  “Two  Treatises  on  Government.”  New  edition,  with  Introduction 
by  H.  Morley,  1884.  (The  doctrine  that  governments  are  formed 
by  the  consent  of  the  governed  for  the  primary  purpose  of  protect- 
ing property.  A defence,  against  Hobbes  and  others,  of  constitu- 
tional government,  and  of  the  right  of  revolution.) 

1693.  “Some  Thoughts  concerning  Education.”  New  edition  by  J.  S. 
Blaikie,  Lond.,  1886. 

1695.  “The  Reasonableness  of  Christianity.”  Edition  by  J.  A.  St.  John, 
1836,  1853.  (This  book  maintains  the  coordinate  rights  and  the 
essential  harmony  of  reason  and  revelation.  As  such,  it  is  really 
the  forerunner  of  the  writings  of  the  English  deists,  Toland,  Col- 
lins, and  others,  and  of  the  French  deists,  Voltaire,  Helvetius, 
and  the  rest.  The  teaching  of  Locke  that  revelation  is  reason- 
able 1 gave  way  soon  to  the  belief,  which  he  would  eagerly  have 
repudiated,  that  revelation  is  superfluous,  and  still  later  to  a doc- 
trine positively  hostile  to  revealed  religion.) 

“Works.”  Latest  (thirteenth)  edition,  9 vols.,  1853. 

“The  Philosophical  Works,”  ed.  J.  A.  St.  John,  Bohn  Library,  1854,  2 vols. 
(“Conduct  of  the  Understanding,”  “Essay  concerning  Human  Under- 
standing,” “ Elements  of  Natural  Philosophy.”) 

For  comment,  cf.  Fraser,  A.  C.,  “Locke”  (Philosophical  Classics),  Edin., 
Lond.,  1890;  and  “Prolegomena”  to  the  edition  of  the  Essay,  cited  above. 

Cf.  also  the  following  authors  cited  by  Rand  and  by  Calkins:  — 

For  biographical  and  historical  material : Fox-Bourne,  Shaftesbury,  Stephen. 

For  criticism  of  Locke  by  his  contemporaries:  H.  Lee,  J.  Norris,  and 
J.  Proast. 

For  recent  criticism:  Drobisch,  B.  Erdmann,  and  A.  W.  Moore  (“The 
. . . Theory  of  Knowledge  in  Locke’s  Essay,”  Univ.  of  Chicago  Decennial 
Publications,  Series  I.,  1892). 

THE  SCOTTISH  SCHOOL  OF  “COMMON-SENSE”  PHILOSO- 
PHERS 

These  writers  founded  their  system  on  an  acute  anti-sensationalistic  psy- 
chology. But  they  uncritically  assumed  the  existence  of  all  objects  of  clear 
consciousness  and  the  extra-mental  existence  of  objects  of  perception. 
Andrew  Baxter  (1686-1750). 

1733.  “ Enquiry  into  the  Nature  of  the  Human  Soul.” 

Thomas  Reid  (1710-96).  (Professor  at  Glasgow.) 

1764.  “ Inquiry  into  the  Human  Mind  on  the  Principles  of  Common  Sense.” 
1785.  “ Essays  on  the  Intellectual  Powers  of  Man.” 

1788.  “ Essays  on  the  Active  Powers  of  Man.” 

“ Works,”  ed.  Sir  Wm.  Hamilton,  Edin.,  1846. 

“ Selections  ” (with  bibliography),  ed.  E.  H.  Sneath,  N.Y.,  1892.  Cf. 
A.  Seth,  cited  by  Rand. 

1 cf.  pp.  503-505- 


George  Berkeley 


495 


Dugald  Stewart  (1753-1828)  (Professor  at  Edinburgh). 

1792-1827.  “Elements  of  the  Philosophy  of  the  Human  Mind,”  3 pts 
“Works,”  ed.  Sir  W.  Hamilton,  10  vols.,  Edin.,  1854  ff. 

Others  of  this  school  are  James  Oswald  and  James  Beattie. 

III.  SPIRITUALISTIC  IDEALISTS 
GEORGE  BERKELEY  (1685-1753) 

I.  Lite 

George  Berkeley,  second  of  the  great  trio  of  British  philosophers 
of  the  Enlightenment,  was  born  in  Kilkenny,  Ireland,  five  years 
before  the  publication  of  Locke’s  “Essay  that  is,  in  1685.  At 
fifteen  he  entered  Trinity  College,  obtained  his  bachelor’s  degree 
in  1704,  and  was  admitted  fellow  in  1707.  Trinity  College  was 
alive  with  the  discussion  of  Locke’s  “Essay,”  and  the  effect  on 
Berkeley  was  to  stimulate  a reaction  against  the  system  — or, 
better,  an  expansion  of  the  secondary-quality  doctrine  into  a purely 
idealistic  teaching.  For  Berkeley’s  philosophic  study  bore  early 
fruit.  He  belongs  indeed  to  the  group  of  writers  whose  thought 
ripens  quickly:  in  1709,  when  he  was  only  twenty-four,  he  pub- 
lished his  “Essay  towards  a New  Theory  of  Vision,”  and  a year 
later  he  brought  out  his  “Principles  of  Human  Knowledge,”  a 
little  work  which  yet  contains  all  the  essential  features  of  his  doc- 
trine. Three  years  later  appeared  a popular  presentation  of  his 
system,  “ Three  Dialogues  between  Hylas  and  Philonous.” 

While  Berkeley  was  superintending,  in  London,  the  publication 
of  this  work,  he  enjoyed  the  society  and  friendship  of  Sir  Richard 
Steele,  Dean  Swift,  Alexander  Pope,  and  the  men  to  whom  these 
influential  friends  introduced  him.  As  chaplain  to  the  Earl  of 
Petersham  he  visited  Italy  in  1713-1714,  and  a year  later  he  became 
the  travelling  tutor  of  Mr.  Ashe,  the  son  of  an  Irish  bishop.  The 
two  spent  more  than  four  years  on  the  continent,  mainly  in  Italy, 
and  we  are  told  that  in  passing  through  Paris  “Mr.  Berkeley 
took  care  to  pay  his  respects  to  . . . the  illustrious  Pere  Male- 
branche.”  Soon  after  his  return,  in  1721,  he  became  chaplain  to 
the  Duke  of  Grafton.  A year  later  he  was  greatly  surprised  to 
receive  a legacy  from  Mrs.  Vanhomrigh  (Swift’s  Vanessa).  In 
1724  he  was  named  Dean  of  Derry,  at  a stipend  of  ^1100  a year, 
and  threw  himself  with  zeal  into  his  new  work.  Already,  however, 


496  British  P hilosophers  through  Hume 


there  had  dawned  on  the  mind  of  this  vigorously  cosmopolitan 
Christian  the  ideal  of  an  American  colony  in  which  church  and 
college  should  unite  their  efforts  for  the  upbuilding  of  an  ideal  com- 
munity. His  enthusiasm  gained  adherents  to  the  scheme,  Uto- 
pian as  it  now  seems,  and  in  1728  he  sailed,  with  the  promise,  from 
the  government  of  King  George  I.,  of  lands  in  Bermuda  and  of  a 
grant  of  ^20,000.  His  newly  married  wife  went  with  him,  and  a 
little  group  of  men  whom  he  had  inspired  with  ardor.  They  were 
doomed  to  disappointment:  Walpole  lost  little  time  in  diverting 
the  money  to  the  purposes  of  a princess’s  marriage  portion;  and 
the  colonists  never  saw  the  Bermudas,  for  they  had  sailed  directly 
to  Rhode  Island,  in  the  expectation  of  purchasing  lands  for  the 
support  of  the  college.  The  memory  of  the  two  years  spent  by 
Berkeley  in  Rhode  Island  is  still  preserved  by  the  records  of  Trinity 
Church  of  Newport,  where  he  preached  many  Sundays;  and  by 
the  books  which  he  left  to  the  Yale  and  to  the  Harvard  libraries. 
His  “Alciphron”  was  written  in  America,  and  “Berkeley’s  Cave” 
is  still  pointed  out  as  the  reputed  scene  of  the  philosopher’s  study. 

Two  years  after  Berkeley’s  return  to  England,  in  1734,  he  was 
appointed  to  the  bishopric  of  Cloyne,  and  he  spent  the  last  years 
of  his  life  in  devoted  service  to  this  diocese  of  poor  country  folk, 
and  in  eager  thought  upon  the  pressing  problems  of  Irish  life. 
The  main  purpose  of  “The Querist,”  published  in  1733,  is  to  stimu- 
late an  interest  in  domestic  manufactures.  “To  feed  the  hungry 
and  clothe  the  naked,”  he  says,  “will,  perhaps,  be  deemed  no  im- 
proper employment  for  a clergyman  who  still  thinks  himself  a 
member  of  the  commonwealth.”  We  are  told  that  Berkeley  himself 
“chose  to  wear  ill  clothes,  and  worse  wigs,  rather  than  to  suffer  the 
poor  of  the  town  to  be  unemployed.”  His  latest  philosophical 
work,  called  “Siris,”  was  published  in  1744.  He  died  in  1753, 
at  Oxford ; and  many  of  us  remember  the  marble  tablet,  in  Christ 
Church,  Oxford,  which  commemorates  his  life  — - a life  so  full  of 
active  service  and  practical  achievement,  that  it  goes  far  to  vindi- 
cate philosophers  from  the  charge  that  speculative  thinking  in- 
volves ineffective  and  useless  living. 

The  inscription  ends : — 

“Si  christianus  fueris 
Si  amans  patriae, 

Utroque  nomine  gloriari  potes, 

Berkeleium  vixisse.” 


George  Berkeley 


497 


II.  Bibliography 

a.  i.  Philosophical  and  Psychological  Writings 

1709.  “Theory  of  Vision,”  Dublin,  1810.  (A  development  of  the  thesis  that 

distance  is  not  a direct  object  of  vision.) 

1710.  “Treatise  on  the  Principles  of  Human  Knowledge,”  Dublin,  Open 

Court  Co.,  Chicago,  1903. 

1713.  “Three  Dialogues  between  Hylas  and  Philonous,”  Open  Court  Co., 
Chicago,  1901. 

1732.  “ Alciphron  or  the  Minute  Philosopher,”  Dublin.  (Seven  Dialogues, 
directed  against  scepticism,  and  developing  Berkeley’s  theological 
doctrines.) 

1 733-  “Theory  of  Visual  Language  further  Vindicated  and  Explained.” 
1744.  “Siris.  A Chain  of  Philosophical  Reflexions  and  Inquiries  concern- 
ing the  Virtue  of  Tar-water.”  Lond.  (A  fantastic  compound  of 
amateur  medicine  and  natural  science  with  an  idealistic  philoso- 
phy more  rationalistic  than  that  of  the  “ Principles.”) 

2.  Chief  Writings  on  Political  Subjects 

1712.  “Passive  Obedience  or  the  Christian  Doctrine  of  not  Resisting  the 
Supreme  Power.” 

The  essay  inculcates  along  with  its  political  doctrine  a sort  of 
theological  utilitarianism  — the  teaching  that  God  secures  the 
greatest  good  of  the  greatest  number. 

1721.  “An  Essay  towards  Preventing  the  Ruin  of  Great  Britain.” 

1725.  “A  Proposal  ...  for  Converting  the  Savage  Americans  to  Chris- 
tianity.” 

I735-37-  “The  Querist,”  3 pts. 

3.  Important  Writings  on  Mathematical  Subjects 

1707.  “Arithmetica  absque  Algebra  aut  Euclide  demonstrata.” 

1721.  “DeMotu.” 

1734.  “The  Analyst.”  (A  criticism  of  higher  mathematics  as  leading  to  free 
thinking.  The  essay  involved  Berkeley  in  controversy.) 

“Works,”  ed.  A.  C.  Fraser,  Oxf.,  1866,  4 vols.,  1871,  1891,  1905. 
“Selections,”  ed.  A.  C.  Fraser,  Oxf.,  1866;  5th  amended  edition,  1899. 
(Extracts  from  all  the  works  on  philosophy  and  psychology.) 

b.  Criticism  and  Biography 

Fraser,  A.  C.,  “Life  and  Letters  of  Berkeley  and  Dissertation  on  his  Philoso- 
phy.” (This  is  volume  IV.  of  the  “Works,”  and  contains  a “ Common- 
place Book”  written  by  Berkeley  during  his  years  at  Trinity  College.) 
Fraser,  A.  C.,  “Berkeley”  (Philosophical  Classics),  Edin.,  Lond.,  1881. 
Abbott,  T.  K.,  “Sight  and  Touch,”  Lond.,  1864.  (An  antagonistic  criticism 
of  Berkeley’s  psychological  doctrine.) 

2 K 


498  British  Philosophers  through  Hume 

Friederichs,  F.,  “Uber  Berkeley’s  Idealismus,”  Berlin,  1870. 

Mill,  J.  S.,  “Dissertations,”  Vols.  II.  and  IV. 

Cf.  Chandler,  Loewy,  Peirce,  Tower,  Uberweg,  cited  by  Rand.  Berkeley 
is,  however,  his  own  best  critic. 

ARTHUR  COLLIER  (1680-1732) 

“ Clavis  Universalis  or  a New  Inquiry  after  Truth,  being  a Demonstration 
of  the  Non-Existence  or  Impossibility  of  an  External  World,”  Lond., 
i7i3- 

A vigorously  written  argument  against  the  possibility  of  reality  independent 
of  mind,  curiously  resembling  Berkeley’s  “Essay”  and  “Principles”  though 
it  was  planned  and  probably  published  before  Collier  had  read  Berkeley. 

IV.  THE  PHENOMENALIST 
DAVID  HUME  (1711-1776) 

I.  Life 

The  life  of  David  Hume,  in  strong  contrast  to  that  of  Berkeley, 
was  a life  preeminently  of  devotion  to  purely  intellectual  ideals. 
He  was  no  recluse,  but  his  social  intercourse  and  even  his  years  of 
diplomatic  service  were  mere  incidents  and  interludes  in  the  busi- 
ness of  study  and  speculation.  Hume  was  born  of  a good  Scottish 
family  in  1711  — just  one  year  after  the  publication  of  Berkeley’s 
“ Principles.”  His  youth  was  a restless  one.  He  was  probably  little 
more  than  fifteen  when  he  finished  his  university  courses  at  Edin- 
burgh ; he  made  an  unsuccessful  attempt,  when  he  was  seventeen, 
to  study  law;  and  he  was  equally  unhappy,  at  twenty-two,  in  a 
half-hearted  attempt  to  enter  mercantile  life.  Thereupon,  as  he 
tells  us  in  his  story  of  “My  own  Life,”  he  “resolved  to  make  a very 
rigid  frugality  supply  . . . deficiency  of  fortune,  to  maintain  unim- 
paired . . . independency,  and  to  regard  every  object  as  contempt- 
ible, except  the  improvement  of  [his]  talents  in  literature.” 

For  three  years  he  worked  in  “country  retreat”  in  France, 
chiefly  in  La  Flfohe,  and  there  composed  his  “Treatise  of  Human 
Nature.”  By  his  own  account,  this  work  “fell  dead-born  from 
the  press”;  but  though  it  unquestionably  did  not,  until  years  later, 
excite  very  wide  discussion,  there  is  yet  reason  to  believe  that  its 
author’s  naive  self-esteem  was  needlessly  sensitive.  Burton  tells 
us,  for  example,  that  Hume  designated  as  “somewhat  abusive” 


David  Hume 


499 


a review  of  the  “Treatise”  which  compared  it  to  the  juvenile  work 
of  a young  Milton.1 

Three  years  later,  in  1742,  Hume  published  the  first  volume  of 
his  “Essays  Moral  and  Political,”  really  a system  of  political 
philosophy,  though  lacking  systematic  arrangement.  Probably 
because  of  the  reputation  gained  by  this  work,  Hume  was  invited 
in  1745  to  become  tutor  to  the  young  marquis  of  Annandale,  “a 
harmless  literary  lunatic,”  Adamson  calls  him.  This  position 
proved  unfortunate;  and  a year  later  Hume  became  secretary  to 
General  St.  Clair,  at  first  “in  an  incursion  on  the  coast  of  France,” 
and  a few  months  later  “ in  his  military  embassy  to  the  courts  of 
Turin  and  Vienna.” 

During  Hume’s  absence  in  Turin  his  “Enquiry  concerning  Hu- 
man Understanding,”  a condensation  of  his  metaphysical  doctrine, 
was  published  as  one  of  the  “Philosophical  Essays.”  According  to 
Hume  this,  too,  was  at  first  “entirely  overlooked  and  neglected.’ 
Not  many  years  later,  he  was  gratified,  however,  by  “answers  by 
Reverends  and  Right  Reverends  two  or  three  in  a year”  and  found 
by  this  sort  of  criticism  that  “the  books  were  beginning  to  be 
esteemed  in  good  company.”  For  several  years  he  lived  quietly, 
at  first  at  his  brother’s  country  house,  later  in  Edinburgh,  con- 
stantly occupied  with  his  literary  work.  In  1752  he  became  Li- 
brarian of  the  Faculty  of  Advocates,  receiving  the  appointment  in 
spite  of  objections  urged  on  the  score  of  his  impiety.  He  then,  as 
he  says,  “formed  the  plan  of  writing  the  ‘History  of  England’”; 
and  its  successive  volumes  appeared  at  irregular  intervals  from 
1754  to  1761.  From  1763  to  1766  he  was  secretary  of  the  Earl  of 
Hertford,  ambassador  to  Paris.  These  were  the  years  of  Hume’s 
most  brilliant  social  success;  “le  gros  David,”  as  the  Parisians 
called  him,  was  showered  with  attention  from  men  and  women  of 
all  circles,  social,  academic,  and  diplomatic.  “Do  you  ask  me,” 
he  writes  from  Paris,  “about  my  course  of  life?  I can  only  say 
that  I eat  nothing  but  ambrosia,  drink  nothing  but  nectar,  breathe 
nothing  but  incense.”  From  1767  he  successfully  filled,  for  two 
years,  the  position  of  under  secretary  of  state  in  London.  With 
warm  content  he  returned  to  his  Edinburgh  home,  his  friends  and 
his  books.  ‘ ‘ A wife  ? ” he  had  written,  years  before,  ‘ ‘ That  is  none 

1 Burton,  “Life  and  Correspondence  of  Hume,”  I.,  p.  109,  quoted  by  Huxley  in 
his  “ Hume,”  p.  10. 


500  British  Philosophers  through  Hume 


of  the  indispensable  requisites  of  life.  Books?  That  is  one  oi 
them:  and  I have  more  than  I can  use.”  He  died,  after  seven 
years  of  happiness  and  popularity,  in  1776. 

To  gain  an  adequate  conception  of  Hume’s  character  and  his 
personal  convictions  is  a task  of  acknowledged  difficulty.  It  is 
admitted  that  he  was  kindly  in  nature  and  moderate  in  temper ; 
it  is  not  easy  to  deny  in  him  a naive  self-esteem  and  an  over  love 
of  popularity.  He  has,  not  unnaturally,  been  esteemed  to  be  per- 
sonally irreligious;  but  there  is  much  to  indicate  that  he  himself 
held  to  an  unambiguous,  if  attenuated  and  unreasoned  religious 
faith.  “Though  [my]  speculations  entertain  the  learned  . . . 
world,”  he  is  reported  to  have  said,  after  the  death  of  his  mother, 
“yet . . .1  do  not  think  so  differently  from  the  rest  of  the  world.”  1 

II.  Bibliography 

a.  Works  of  Hume 

1739-40.  “A  Treatise  of  Human  Nature,”  Lond.  Book  I.  “Of  the  Under- 
standing”; Book  II.  “Of  the  Passions”;  and  Book  III.  (pub- 
lished in  1740)  “Of  Morals”;  ed.  Green  and  Grose,  2 vols.,  last 
ed.,  1889-90;  and  by  L.  H.  Selby-Bigge,  last  ed.,  Oxf.,  1896. 
Book  I.  is  divided  into  four  parts,  of  which  the  first  is  mainly 
psychological;  the  second  treats  of  space  and  time,  with  the  pur- 
pose of  derogating  from  their  alleged  absolute  reality;  the  third 
includes  Hume’s  doctrine  of  causality;  and  the  fourth  includes 
his  reduction  of  matter  and  spirit  alike  to  impressions. 

1741-42.  “Essays,  Moral  and  Political,”  ed.  Green  and  Grose,  1889-90. 

This  book  is  composed  mainly  of  Hume’s  graceful  and  vigorous 
essays  on  literary  subjects.  It  was  later  combined  with  the  two 
“Enquirys,”  the  “Four  Dissertations”  (including  “Natural  His- 
tory of  Religion”)  and  published,  1758,  under  the  title,  “Essays 
and  Treatises  on  Several  Subjects.” 

1748.  “Philosophical  Essays  concerning  Human  Understanding”  (later 
called  “An  Enquiry  concerning  Human  Understanding”);  ed. 
by  Green  and  Grose,  1889-90;  by  L.  A.  Selby-Bigge,  1894; 
by  Open  Court  Co.,  1906. 

This  book  purports  merely  to  recast  in  more  popular  form  the 
teaching  of  Book  I.  of  the  Treatise;  but  as  a matter  of  fact, 
it  omits  the  culmination  of  that  work,  the  doctrine  of  matter  and 
spirit,  as  well  as  the  discussion  of  space  and  time.  It  also  makes 
certain  additions,  notably  the  section  on  miracles  and  most  of  the 
teachings  about  liberty  and  necessity. 

1 Reported  by  Hume’s  friend,  Dr.  Carlyle,  on  the  authority  of  Mr.  Bayle.  Cf. 
Burton,  “Life  and  Correspondence  of  David  Hume,”  I.,  p.  294;  and  Huxley, 
“Hume,”  p.  28. 


David  Hume 


501 

1751.  “An  Enquiry  concerning  the  Principles  of  Morals,”  Lond.  (Open 

Court  Co.,  1902.) 

Hume’s  fresh  formulation  in  abbreviated  form,  of  Book  III.  of 
the  “Treatise” ; “in  my  own  opinion,”  he  says,  “ of  all  my  writings, 
historical,  philosophical,  or  literary,  incomparably  the  best.” 

1752.  “Political  Discourses,”  Edin.;  ed.  Green  and  Grose,  1890. 

“The  only  work  of  mine,”  Hume  says,  “that  was  successful  on 
its  first  publication.”  A brilliant,  though  unsystematic,  work 
on  political  economy  — at  many  points  an  anticipation  of  Adam 
Smith’s  “Wealth  of  Nations.” 

1754-61.  “History  of  England,”  in  five  volumes. 

A brilliant,  though  untrustworthy  history  “in  which  all  the  lights 
are  Tory  and  all  the  shades  Whig.” 

1 757.  “Four  Dissertations”:  “The  Natural  History  of  Religion,”  “Of  the 
Passions,”  “Of  Tragedy,”  “Of  the  Standard  of  Taste,”  Lond. 
The  dissertation  first  named  is  the  earliest  attempt  to  discuss 
religion  from  the  psychological  and  the  historical  standpoints. 
It  teaches  that  polytheism  is  the  oldest  and  most  natural  form  of 
religion.  The  “Dissertation  on  the  Passions”  is  a good  restate- 
ment of  Book  II.  of  the  “Treatise.” 

Posthumous 

1777.  “My  own  Life,”  Lond. 

1777.  “Two  Essays,”  Lond.  (“On  Suicide,”  and  “On  the  Immortality  of 
the  Soul.”) 

1779.  “Dialogues  on  Natural  Religion.” 

An  essay  embodying  a sort  of  deistic  doctrine.  Hume  wrote 
it  with  great  care  and  left  directions  that  it  should  be  published. 

b.  Modern  Editions 

“A  Treatise  of  Human  Nature  and  Dialogues  concerning  Natural  Religion,” 
2 vols.,  and 

“Essays,  Moral,  Political,  and  Literary,”  2 vols.;  all  edited  with  important 
Introductions  and  Notes  by  T.  H.  Green  and  T.  H.  Grose, 
last  edition,  1889-90. 

c.  Commentaries  and  Criticism 

Introductions  to  the  volumes  of  Green  and  Grose’s  edition ; especially  Green’s 
Introduction  to  “A  Treatise  of  Human  Nature.” 

Elkin,  W.  B.  “Hume’s  Treatise  and  Enquiry,”  N.Y.,  1904. 

Gizycki,  G.  v.  “ Die  Ethik  David  Hume’s  in  ihrer  geschichtlichen  Stellung,” 
Bresl.,  1878,  pp.  337. 

Huxley,  T.  H.  “Hume,”  Lond.,  N.Y.,  1879.  (A  relatively  uncritical  ex- 
position.) 

Jacobi,  F.  H.  “David  Hume  fiber  den  Glauben,  Idealismus  und  Real- 
ismus,”  Bresl.,  1787. 


502  British  Philosophers  through  Hume 


Jodi,  F.,  “Leben  und  Philosophic  David  Hume’s,”  Halle,  1872. 

Meinong,  A.,  “Hume-Studien,”  I.,  “Zur  Geschichte  u.  Kritik  des  modernen 
Nominalismus,”  II.,  “Zur  Relationstheorie,”  Vienna,  1877  and 
1882. 

(On  the  relation  between  Hume  and  Kant ) 

E.  Caird,  “The  Critical  Philosophy  of  Immanuel  Kant,”  Vol.  I.,  Chapter  5. 

B.  Erdmann,  “ Kant’s  Kriticismus,”  Chapter  I.  (cf.  “ Arch.  f.  Gesch.  d. 
Philos.,”  I.,  1887-88,  pp.  62  seq.,  216  seq.). 

J.  H.  Stirling,  “Kant  has  not  answered  Hume,”  in  Mind,  O.  S.  Vol.  IX., 
pp.  531  seq.;  and  Vol.,  X.  pp.  45  seq. 

Note:  British  Writers  on  Ethics  and  on  Theology 
I.  Predominantly  Ethical  Writers 
a.  Egoistic 

Bernard  de  Mandeville  (1670-1733). 

Chief  Works:  — 

1705.  “The  Fable  of  the  Bees,  or  Private  Vices  Public  Benefits,”  Lond. 

(A  brilliant  exposition  of  Hobbes’s  doctrine  that  morality  is  an 
expression  of  self-interest.) 

1720.  “Free  Thoughts  on  Religion,  the  Church,  and  Natural  Happiness,” 
Lond.  Later  editions,  1729,  1731. 

“A  Letter  to  Dion  (Berkeley)  occasioned  by  his  Book  called 
Alciphron.” 

b.  Altruistic 

(Upholding,  against  Hobbes  but  with  Locke  and  Berkeley,  the  doctrine 

that  morality  is  based  preeminently  on  social  not  on  egoistic  feeling.) 

Richard  Cumberland. 

1672.  “De  legibus  naturae,”  Lond.  (Theistic). 

(1)  Intuitionists 

Anthony,  Third  Earl  of  Shaftesbury  (1671-1713). 

Chief  Work:  — 

1711.  “Characteristics  of  Men,  Manners,  Opinions,  Times,”  Lond. 

Shaftesbury  conceives  of  the  moral  consciousness  as  feeling  or 
instinct,  and  denies  the  existence  of  any  conflict  between  egoism 
and  altruism. 

Francis  Hutcheson  (1694-1747).  (A  disciple  of  Shaftesbury.) 

Chief  Works:  — 

1725.  “An  Inquiry  into  the  Original  of  Our  Ideas  of  Beauty  and  Virtue,” 
Lond. 

1755.  “A  System  of  Moral  Philosophy,”  Lond.  and  Glasgow. 

Adam  Smith  (1723-90).  (Author  of  the  “Wealth  of  Nations”). 

1759.  “Theory  of  Moral  Sentiments,”  Lond. 


Writers  on  Ethics  and  Theology 


503 


(2)  Theistic  Moralists 

(The  moral  consciousness  is  conceived  as  submission  to  the  law  of  God.) 
Joseph  Butler  (1692-1752). 

1726.  “Fifteen  Sermons  upon  Human  Nature,”  Lond. 

William  Paley  (1743-1805). 

1785.  “Principles  of  Moral  and  Political  Philosophy,”  Lond. 

(3)  Utilitarian  Moralists 

(Cf.  E.  Albee,  “A  History  of  English  Utilitarianism,”  1902.) 

J.  Bentham  (1747-1832). 

1789.  “Introduction  to  the  Principles  of  Morals  and  Legislation,”  Lond. 

Bentham  with  his  basal  principle,  “the  greatest  happiness  of  the 
greatest  number,”  is  the  founder  of  the  most  significant  school  of 
nineteenth-century  British  ethics,  that  of  the  Utilitarians,  J.  S.  Mill, 
Spencer,  Sidgwick,  and  others. 


II.  Predominantly  Theological  Writers 

a.  Deists 

(Deism  is  a reaction  against  church  theology.  It  rejects  or  sets  little  value 
on  revelation,  conceiving  God  mainly  as  First  Cause.) 

John  Toland  (cf.  supra , p.  492). 

1696.  “Christianity  not  Mysterious,”  Lond. 

Anthony  Collins  (1676-1729). 

1713.  “A  Discourse  of  Free  Thinking,”  Lond. 

Matthew  Tlndal  (-1733). 

1730.  “ Christianity  as  Old  as  the  Creation,”  Lond. 

b.  T heists 

(The  theists  hold  to  the  possibility  of  proving  a posteriori  the  intelligence  and 
the  goodness  of  God.  Of  the  four  named  below,  Clarke  and  Wollaston  also 
teach  that  obligation  exists  independently  of  the  divine  law,  and  that  morality 
is  conduct  in  accordance  with  true  relations.) 

Samuel  Clarke  (1675-1729). 

1705.  “A  Demonstration  of  the  Being  and  Attributes  of  God,”  Lond. 
William  Wollaston  (1660-1724). 

1725.  “The  Religion  of  Nature  Delineated,”  Lond. 

Joseph  Butler  (1692-1752). 

1736.  “The  Analogy  of  Religion,  Natural  and  Revealed  to  the  Constitution 
and  Course  of  Nature,”  Lond. 

William  Paley  (1743-1805). 

1802.  “Natural  Theology,  or  Evidences  of  the  Existence  and  Attributes  of 
the  Deity  collected  from  the  Appearances  of  Nature,”  Lond. 


504  Continental  P hilosophers 

D.  CONTINENTAL  PHILOSOPHERS  OF  THE 
EIGHTEENTH  CENTURY 

(Cf.  E.  Caird,  “The  Critical  Philosophy  of  Immanuel  Kant,”  Vol.  I., 
Introd.,  Chapter  1.) 


I.  RATIONALISTIC  DUALISTS 
Christian  Wolff  (1679-1754). 

Professor  in  Halle,  banished  in  1723  by  Frederick  William  I.  of  Prussia 
through  the  influence  of  pietistic  opponents,  recalled  in  1740  by  Frederick 
the  Great.  (Cf.  supra , Chapter  7,  p.  195.) 

Important  Works:  — 

1712.  “Logica,  oder  Verniinftige  Gedanken  von  den  Kraften  des  Mensch- 
lichen  Verstandes,”  Halle. 

1719.  “Verniinftige  Gedanken  von  Gott,  der  Welt,  und  der  Seele  des  Men- 
schen,  auch  alien  Dingen  iiberhaupt,”  Frankf.  und  Leipz. 

1728.  “Philosophia  rationalis,”  Frankf.  und  Leipz. 

1731.  “Cosmologia  generalis,”  Leipz. 

1732.  “Psychologia  empirica,”  Leipz. 

1734.  “Psychologia  rationalis,”  Leipz. 

Martin  Knutzen  (d.)  1751.  (The  teacher  of  Kant.) 

1746.  “Systema  Causarum  Efficientium.” 

A.  G.  Baumgarten  (1714-62). 

1739.  “Metaphysica,”  Halle,  7th  ed.,  1779.  (Often  used  as  text-book  by 
Kant.) 

1 750—58.  “ /Esthetica,”  Frankf. 

1751.  “Ethica  philosophica,”  Halle;  2d  ed.,  1763. 

F.  C.  B.  Baumeister  (1709-1785). 

r733.  “Philosophia  definitiva,”  Wittenb.,  3d  ed.,  1771. 

1736.  “ Institutiones  metaphysics,”  ibid.,  2d  ed.,  1774.  (Occasionally  used 
by  Kant  as  text -book  in  his  early  university  lectures.) 


II.  FRENCH  MATERIALISTS  AND  THEIR  CONTEMPO- 
RARIES 

The  Enlightenment  in  France 

Voltaire  (F.  M.  Arouet)  (1694-1778). 

Voltaire  was  no  metaphysician,  but  he  influenced  philosophers  by  his 
firm  opposition,  from  a deistic  standpoint,  to  a ‘ prejudiced  and  privileged 
orthodoxy.’ 

Chief  Works  on  Philosophical  Subjects  : — 

1733.  “Lettres  sur  les  Anglais.”  (“An  attack  on  everything  established  in 
the  church  and  state  of  France.”)  Engl.,  Lond. 

1738.  “ Elements  de  la  philosophie  de  Newton.  . . .”  Amst. 


The  Enlightenment  in  France  505 

1740.  “La  metaphysique  de  Newton,  ou  parallele  des  sentiments  de  Newton, 
et  de  Leibniz,”  Amst. 

1759.  “Candide,  ou  l’optimisme,”  Paris. 

1764.  “ Dictionnaire  philosophique,”  Paris;  Engl.,  Lond.,  1765  and  1843, 
Boston,  1852.  (Mainly  a compilation  of  Voltaire’s  contributions 
to  the  “ Encyclopedic.”) 

Jean  Le  Rond  D’Alembert  (1717-83). 

Mathematician  and  scientist.  For  many  years  co-editor  with  Diderot, 
of  the  Encyclopedic,  and  writer  of  the 

“Discours  preliminaire,”  in  the  “Encyclopedic.” 


(, Sensationalist ) 

Etienne  Bonnot  de  Condillac  (1715-80). 
Important  Philosophical  Works:  — 

1754.  “Traite  des  sensations,”  Paris  and  Lond. 

1755.  “Traite  des  animaux,”  Amst. 

“CEuvres  completes,”  23  vols.,  Paris,  1798. 


(. Materialists ) 

J.  O.  DE  LA  METTRIE  (1709-51). 

Chief  Philosophical  Works  : — 

1745.  “Histoire  naturelle  de  l’ame,”  The  Hague. 

1748.  “L’homme  machine,”  Leyden. 

“(Euvres  philosophiques,”  2 vols.,  Lond.,  1751. 

C.  A.  Helvethjs  (1715-71). 

1758.  “De  l’esprit,”  Paris;  Engl.,  Lond.,  1807. 

1772.  “De  l’homme,  de  ses  facultes,  et  de  son  education,”  2 vols.,  Lond. 
Baron  P.  H.  D.  von  Holbach  (1723-1789). 

Important  Works  : — 

1770.  “ Systeme  de  la  nature  . . . par  M.  Mirabaud  ” [really  von  Holbach], 
Lond.,  Engl.,  Lond.,  1884. 

1756.  “Le  christianisme  devoile.”  Par  feu  M.  Boulanger  [really  von 
Holbach],  Lond.  [really,  Nancy],  Engl.,  N.Y.,  1819. 

Denis  Diderot  (1713-84). 

Diderot  is  not  ‘a  coherent  and  systematic  materialist,’  yet  his  philosophy 
becomes  in  the  end  distinctly  materialistic.  He  is  best  known  as  creator  and 
chief  editor  of  the  “Encyclopedic  ou  dictionnaire  raisonne  des  sciences,  des 
arts,et  des  metiers,”  1751-72,  28  vols. ; suppls.,  7 vols.  The  “Encyclopedic”  is 
rightly  regarded  as  ‘the  literary  embodiment  of  the  Enlightenment  movement 
in  France.’  It  is  ‘one  unbroken  piece  of  exaltation  of  scientific  knowledge 
and  pacific  industry,’  never  atheistic,  but  throughout  laying  stress  on  ‘the 
justice  of  religious  tolerance  and  religious  freedom.’ 

Chief  Philosophical  Works:  — 

1746.  “Pensees  philosophiques,”  The  Hague. 


506  Continental  Philosophers 

1754.  “Pens6es  sur  l’interpretation  de  la  nature,”  The  Hague. 

“Reve  d’Alembert”  (Posthumous). 

“CEuvres,”  ed.  Assdzat  et  Tourneux,  20  vols.,  Paris,  1875-77. 

(Cf.  J.  Morley,  “Diderot,  and  the  Encyclopedists,”  Lond.,  1878,  1886.) 

III.  HUMANISTS 

The  writers  named  in  this  section  illustrate  a tendency  without  forming  a 
school.  They  are  representative  of  a far  greater  number;  and  though  they 
are  not  in  a strict  sense  philosophers,  their  influence  on  philosophy  is  not  in- 
considerable. The  common  feature  of  their  writings  is  a reaction  from  the 
rationalism  of  the  Enlightenment,  and  a realization  of  the  significance  of 
personality. 

a.  In  France 

Jean  Jacques  Rousseau,  1712-1778. 

1750.  “ Discours  sur  les  sciences  et  les  arts.” 

1754.  “Discours  sur  l’origine  et  les  fondemens  de  I’in6galit6  . . .” 

1761.  “La  nouvelle  Heloise.” 

1762.  “ Emile,  ou  sur  1’ education.”  1762.  “ Du  contrat  social.” 

b.  In  Germany 

Gotthold  Ephraim  Lessing,  1729-1781. 

Lessing,  the  creator  of  German  literature,  is  poet,  critic,  and  apostle  of  free- 
dom. Like  Herder,  he  conceives  of  religion  as  personal  relation  between  God 
and  man.  His  most  important  works,  from  the  standpoint  of  philosophy, 
are:  — 

1767-69.  “ Hamburgische  Dramaturgic.”  (A  criticism  of  the  principles  of 
dramatic  art,  essentially  Aristotelian  in  teaching.) 

1777,  1780.  “Erziehung  des  menschlichen  Geschlechts.”  (The  concep- 

tion of  the  history  of  religions  as  record  of  the  education  of 
humanity  by  God.) 

(For  discussion  of  Lessing  as  Spinozist,  cf.  Dilthey  and  Zirngiebl  cited 
by  Rand.) 

Johann  Gottfried  von  Herder,  1744-1803. 

Like  Rousseau,  Herder  lays  stress  on  the  significance  of  the  primitive 
consciousness.  But  he  corrects  the  narrow  subjectivity  of  Rousseau  by  a 
doctrine  of  the  development  of  the  human  consciousness,  of  literature,  and 
of  art ; and  he  supplements  his  collections  of  early  ballads  and  his  literary 
and  philological  studies  by  works  of  philosophical  significance,  notably:  — 

1778.  “Vom  Erkennen  und  Empfinden  der  menschlichen  Seele.” 

1784-92.  “ Ideen  zur  Philosophic  der  Geschichte  der  Menschheit,”  Engl., 

Lond.,  1800. 

1787.  “Gott:  einige  Gesprache”  (2d  ed.,  1800,  entitled,  “Gesprache  uber 
Spinoza’s  System  ”). 

1799.  “Verstand  und  Erfahrung,  Vernunft  und  Sprache.  Eine  Metakritik 
zur  Kritik  der  reinen  Vernunft.” 


Immanuel  Kant 


507 


E.  KANT  AND  THE  KANTIANS 
IMMANUEL  KANT  (1724-1804) 

I.  Life 

“The  life  history  of  Kant,”  Heine  says,  “is  hard  to  write.  For 
he  had  neither  life  nor  history.  He  lived  a mechanically  ordered, 
very  abstract  bachelor’s  life  in  a quiet  little  street  in  Konigsberg. 
I do  not  believe  that  the  great  clock  of  the  Konigsberg  cathedral 
performed  its  daily  task  more  tranquilly  and  regularly  than  its 
great  fellow-citizen,  Immanuel  Kant.  Getting  up,  drinking  coffee 
writing,  lecturing,  dining,  going  to  walk  — everything  had  its 
appointed  time.  At  half-past  four  he  walked  eight  times  up  and 
down,  in  every  season  — and  if  the  weather  were  bad,  one  saw  his 
servant,  old  Lampe,  walking  behind  him,  with  a great  umbrella, 
like  a picture  of  Providence.  A curious  contrast  between  the  outer 
life  of  the  man  and  his  . . . world-destroying  thoughts.  If  the 
people  of  Konigsberg  had  dreamed  of  the  full  significance  of  his 
thought,  they  would  have  felt  a dread  of  him  . . . but  the  good  people 
saw  in  him  ...  a professor  of  philosophy,  and  when  he  passed  them 
at  the  appointed  hour,  they  greeted  him  cordially  and  set  their 
watches  by  him.”  1 

Kant  was  born  at  Konigsberg,  in  1724,  the  son  of  a strap-maker. 
From  his  parents,  pietists  of  simple  and  noble  character,  he  early 
learned  lessons  of  virtue  and  of  reverence.  From  his  school,  the 
well-known  Collegium  Fredericianum,  he  received  a good  classical 
training.  In  the  university,  which  he  entered  at  eighteen,  he  studied 
philosophy  and  natural  science;  and  in  1755,  after  nine  years  of  the 
life  of  private  tutor,  he  habilitated  also  at  Konigsberg  as  privat- 
docent.  The  rest  of  his  life  he  spent  in  this  same  quiet  little  aca- 
demic city  near  the  Russian  border.  He  never  married,  and  the 
records  of  his  life  contain  no  reference  to  any  passionate  friendships. 
Yet  the  attachment  between  him  and  his  servant,  old  Lampe, 
attests  the  kindness  of  his  disposition,  and  his  letters  to  his  students, 
in  particular  to  Marcus  Herz,  bear  witness  to  the  relations  of  frank 
friendship  which  bound  them  to  him.  A tribute,  written  in  Kant’s 
later  life,  by  Herder  suggests  the  nature  of  these  early  relations 
with  his  students.  Herder  says:  “I  once  had  the  happiness  of 


'Heine,  Sammtliche  Werke,  V.,  “Religion  und  Philosophic,”  p.  186. 


5°8 


Immanuel  Kant 


knowing  a philosopher;  he  was  my  teacher.  He  had  the  joyous 
cheerfulness  of  youth  at  that  happy  time;  his  open  forehead, 
created  expressly  for  thought,  was  the  seat  of  imperturbable  se- 
renity; his  speech  redundant  with  ideas  flowed  from  his  lips.  . . . 
He  would  constantly  bring  us  back  to  the  simple,  unaffected  study 
of  nature.  He  gave  us  self-confidence  and  obliged  me  to  think 
for  myself,  for  tyranny  was  foreign  to  his  soul.” 

As  will  appear  from  the  list  of  Kant’s  writings,  his  early  interests 
were  for  mathematics  and  science,  and  he  retained  throughout  his 
life  his  keen  concern  for  mathematics,  physics,  geography,  and 
anthropology.  His  achievements  as  a scientific  theorist  are  con- 
siderable. As  early  as  1755  — that  is,  forty-one  years  before  the 
appearance  of  La  Place’s  “Exposition  du  Systeme  du  Monde” 
— Kant  published  a “Universal  Nature  History  and  Theory  of 
the  Heavens,”  which  clearly  suggests  what  La  Place  later  named 
the  nebular  hypothesis;  and  his  very  latest  work,  the  “Opus 
Posthumum,  ” a dissertation  on  Physics,  contains  ingenious  theo- 
ries of  the  constitution  of  matter.  It  is  perhaps  not  unnatural 
that  his  scientific  interest  was  balanced  by  a disregard  and  even 
a comparative  ignorance  of  technical  works  of  philosophy.  His 
criticisms,  for  example,  of  Leibniz  and  of  Berkeley  show  that  he 
had  not  thoroughly  read  either  one  of  them,  and  even  his  concep- 
tion of  Hume’s  teaching  is  inadequate.  His  own  thinking,  as  has 
appeared,  was  a baffling  combination  of  conservatism  and  radical- 
ism. He  united  a tenacious  fondness  for  traditional  beliefs  with 
the  ruthlessness  of  the  reformer. 

Kant  was  deeply  interested  also  in  contemporary  affairs  and  sin- 
cerely in  sympathy  with  the  tendency  of  the  later  eighteenth  cen- 
tury toward  political  emancipation.  He  was  an  enthusiastic  reader 
of  Rousseau  and  followed  with  friendly  concern  the  successive 
events  of  the  American  War  for  Independence  and  the  French 
Revolution.  His  critique  of  Herder’s  “Ideas  toward  the  Philoso- 
phy of  the  History  of  Humanity”  and  his  essay  on  “Perpetual 
Peace”  are  the  most  significant  of  his  own  writings  on  political 
subjects. 

The  breadth  of  these  interests  contrasts  oddly  with  the  narrow- 
ness of  Kant’s  personal  life.  He  was  never  tempted  away  from 
Konigsberg.  All  his  journeys  were  voyages  of  thought.  His  inter- 
course with  the  great  men  of  his  time  was  mainly  by  letter.  With 


Kantian  Bibliography 


509 


evident  satisfaction  and  with  utter  acquiescence  in  the  justice  of 
the  verdict,  but  without  any  corresponding  enlargement  in  his 
outward  circumstances,  he  gradually  found  himself  the  foremost 
philosophical  thinker  of  his  age  — the  autocrat,  or  at  least  the 
centre,  of  the  world  of  contemporary  thought.  He  died  quietly 
in  1804,  after  a few  years  of  literary  inactivity. 

The  almost  exclusive  concern  with  the  affairs  of  thought  which 
characterized  all  Kant’s  life  is  well  mirrored  in  a portrait  of  the 
little  philosopher,  recently  discovered  in  a Dresden  antiquary’s 
shop.  It  represents  a man  with  head  somewhat  bowed  under  the 
weight  of  the  commanding  brow,  and  with  tranquil  eyes,  unmind- 
ful — so  it  seems  — of  the  passion  and  toil  and  pettiness  of  the 
world  of  men,  but  fixed  upon  the  goal  of  reasoned  truth. 


II.  Bibliography 

(Cf.  “ German  Kantian  Bibliography,”  E.  Adickes,  Boston,  1896,  pp.  623.) 


a.  Most  Important  Works  oj  Kant 


(The  references  are  to  the  volumes  of  the  second  Hartenstein  edition 
Kant’s  “Werke.”) 


1.  Early  Writings 


of 


(For  useful  summaries  of  the  works  of  Kant’s  early  periods,  cf.  E.  Caird, 
“The  Critical  Philosophy  of  Kant,”  Vol.  I.,  Introd.,  c.  4.) 

1 755-  “ Principiorum  primorum  cognitionis  metaphvsicae : nova  dilu- 
cidatio,”  H.  I.,  Konigsb.  (Delivered  when  Kant  habilitated 
as  privat-docent.  Rationalistic,  that  is,  Wolffian,  in  character.) 
1755.  “Allgemeine  Naturgeschichte  und  Theorie  des  Himmels,”  H.  I., 
Konigsb.  u.  Leipz.  Transl.  by  W.  Hastie,  Lond.,  1900.  (An- 
ticipation of  the  nebular  hypothesis.) 

2.  Writings  Rationalistic,  yet  Critical  oj  Rationalism 

1762.  “Die  falsche  Spitzfindigkeit  der  vier  syllogistischen  Figuren,”  H.  II., 

Konigsb.  (A  criticism  of  over-pedantic  logic.) 

1763.  “ Versuch  den  Begriff  der  negativen  Grossen  in  die  Weltweisheit  einzu- 

fiihren,”  H.  II.,  ibid. 

1763.  “ Der  einzigmogliche  Beweisgrund  . . . des  Daseins  Gottes,”  H.  II., 

ibid.  Transl.  in  “Essays  and  Treatises,”  Lond.,  1798. 

1764.  “Uber  die  Deutlichkeit  der  Grundsatze  der  naturlichen  Theologie 

und  Moral”  (known  as  “Evidenz”),  H.  II.  In  Mendelssohn’s 
Preisschrift,  Berl. 

1764.  “Beobachtungen  liber  das  Gefiihl  des  Schdnen  und  Erhabenen,” 
H.  II.,  Konigsb.  Transl.  in  “Essays  and  Treatises.” 


Immanuel  Kant 


5io 

3.  Transition  to  Critical  Philosophy 

1766.  “Traume  eines  Geistersehers  erlautert  durch  Traume  der  Meta- 
physik,”  H.  II.,  ibid.  Transl.  by  E.  F.  Goerwitz,  Lond.,  1900. 
(An  unacademic  essay,  teaching  that  knowledge  is  limited  and 
that  conscience  is  the  basis  of  true  faith.) 

1768.  “Von  dem  ersten  Grund  des  Unterschiedes  der  Gegenden  im  Raume,” 
H.  II.,  in  “ Konigsberg  Frage-  und-Anzeig-Nachricht.” 

(The  first  published  indication  of  Kant’s  space  doctrine.  From 
the  phenomena  of  symmetry,  Kant  argues  the  ideality  of  space.) 
1770.  “ De  mundi  sensibilis  atque  intelligibilis  forma  et  principiis  disserta- 
tio  ” (known  as  “ Dissertatio  ”),  H.  II.,  Konigsb.  Transl.  by 
W.  J.  Eckoff,  N.Y.,  1894. 

(Delivered  at  Kant’s  inauguration  as  professor.  A complete 
statement  of  his  space  and  time  doctrine.) 

4.  The  Period  of  the  Three  Kritiks 

(Cf.  Kant’s  correspondence  during  this  period,  especially  that  with  Marcus 
Herz.) 

1781.  “ Kritik  der  reinen  Vernunft,”  first  edition  (A),  H.  III.,  Riga  (for  transl. 
cf.  infra,  p.  51 1). 

1783.  “Prolegomena  zu  einer  jeden  kiinftigen  Metaphysik,”  H.  IV.,  ibid. 

Ed.,  with  critical  notes,  by  B.  Erdmann,  Leipz.,  1878.  Transl. 
by  E.  B.  Bax,  Lond.,  1883;  by  J.  H.  Bernard,  Lond.,  1889;  by 
P.  Cams,  Chicago,  1902.  (Written  in  reply  to  a review  of  the 
“ Kritik”  by  Garve  published  in  the  Gottinger  Gelehrten  Anzeigen. 
This  review  accuses  Kant  of  Berkelianism.  In  his  indignant 
refutation  of  this  charge  it  is  likely  that  Kant  underestimates 
and  misstates  his  own  idealism.) 

1785.  “Grundlegung  zur  Metaphysik  der  Sitten,”  H.  IV.,  ibid.  Transl.  by 
T.  K.  Abbott  as  “Metaphysics  of  Ethics”  (cited  infra,  p.  511). 

1787.  “Kritik  der  reinen  Vernunft,”  second  edition  (B),  ibid. 

1788.  “Kritik  der  praktischen  Vernunft,”  H.  V.,  ibid.  Ed.  by  von  Kirch- 

mann,  and  Kehrbach.  Transl.  by  T.  K.  Abbott,  as  “Critique 
of  Practical  Reason.” 

1790.  “Kritik  der  Urteilskraft,”  H.  V.,  Berl.  u.  Libau,  ed.  by  B.  Erdmann. 

Transl.  by  J.  H.  Bernard,  Lond.,  1892,  as  “Critique  of  Judg- 
ment.” 

Kant’s  discussion  of  ‘aesthetic’  and  ‘teleological’  judgments.  In 
these,  according  to  his  view,  we  are  conscious  through  feeling 
of  a harmony  between  subject  and  object  which  transcends 
knowledge.  Cf.  E.  B.  Talbot,  “The  Fundamental  Principle 
of  Fichte’s  Philosophy,”  pp.  11-15;  E.  Caird,  op.  cit.  infra, 
Vol.  II.,  Bk.  III. 

5.  Later  Writings 

“Religion  innerhalb  der  Grenzen  der  blosen  Vernunft,”  H.  VI., 
Konigsb.  Transl.  in  “Essays  and  Treatises  of  Kant,”  II.  i79^» 
(in  part)  by  T.  K.  Abbott  (cited  p.  511,  infra). 


1793- 


Kantian  Bibliography 


5“ 


1795.  “ Zum  ewigen  Frieden.  Ein  philosophischer  Entwurf,”  H.  ~VI.,  ibid. 

Transl.  in  “Essays,”  etc.,  I.;  and  in  “ Principles  of  Politics,”  by 
W.  Hastie,  1891. 

1797.  “ Metaphysische  Anfangsgriinde  der  Rechts  und  Tugendlehre” 

(known  as  “Metaphysik  der  Sitten,”)  H.  VII.,  ibid.  Transl.  by 
J.  W.  Semple,  1836;  3d  ed.,  1871. 

1798.  “Anthropologie  in  pragmatischer  Hinsicht,”  H.  VII.,  ibid.  Transl. 

by  A.  E.  Kroeger  in  Journ.  of  Spec.  Philos.,  1875-1882.  (Edited 
by  other  hands  from  Kant’s  lecture  notes  and  papers.) 

1800.  “Logik,”  H.  VIII.,  ed.  G.  B.  Jasche,  ibid.  Transl.  by  T.  K. 
Abbott,  1885. 

1821.  “ Vorlesungen  liber  Metaphysik,”  ed.  K.  H.  L.  Politz,  Erf. 

b.  Editions 

1.  Of  Complete  Works,  by 

K.  Rosenkranz  u.  F.  W.  Schubert,  12  vols.,  Leipz.,  1838  ff. 

G.  Hartenstein,  Leipz.,  1st  ed.,  10  vols.,  1838;  2d  ed.,  8 vols.,  1867  ff. 

Konigl.  Preuss.  Akad.  der  Wissenschaften,  Berl.  1900  ff.,  Vols.  1-4,  and  10-12 
(Letters)  already  published.  (The  authoritative  and  completest  edi- 
tion.) 

2.  Of  the  Kritik  of  Pure  Reason 

(а)  Edited  on  the  basis  of  the  second  edition  of  the  “Kritik,”  (1)  by  Benno 
Erdmann  (1877,  3d  ed.,  1900)  and  (2)  by  E.  Adickes  (1889)  (both  with 
useful  critical  notes) ; 

(б)  Edited  on  the  basis  of  the  first  edition  of  the  “Kritik”  (1)  by  J.  von 
Kirchmann  (1869,  1891)  and  (2)  by  K.  Kehrbach  (Reclam  series), 
1878;  in  fine  print  but  containing  a very  convenient  compendium  of  all 
texts ; 

(c)  Translated,  entire,  by  Max  Muller  (from  the  first  edition,  with  the  diverg- 
ing passages  of  the  second  edition  as  supplement) ; in  part  by  J.  H. 
Stirling  and  J.  Watson  cited  infra. 

3.  Compilations 

“The  Philosophy  of  Kant,  in  Extracts  from  His  Own  Writings,”  transl.  by 
John  Watson,  N.Y.,  1888;  last  ed.,  1901.  (Judicious  selections  from 
the  three  “ Kritiks,  ” and  the  “ Metaphysics  of  Morality,”  1785.) 

“The  Ethical  Writings  of  Kant,”  transl.  by  T.  K.  Abbott,  Glasg.,  1879. 
(Includes  “The  Critique  of  Practical  Reason,”  “The  Metaphysics  of 
Ethics,”  and  part  of  the  “Religion  within  the  Bounds  of  Mere  Under- 
standing.”) 

c.  Manuscript  Notes  of  Kant 

Benno  Erdmann,  “Reflexionen  Kants  zur  Kritik  der  kritischen  Philosophic,” 
Leipz.,  1882-1884. 

(A  collection  of  notes  made  by  Kant,  through  many  years,  in  the  mar- 
gins of  his  copy  of  Baumgarten’s  “Metaphysica”  the  basis  of  most  of 
his  lectures  on  metaphysics.) 


512 


Immanuel  Kant 


B.  Erdmann,  “Nachtrage  zu  Kant’s  Kritik  der  reinen  Vernunft,”  Kiel,  1881, 
pp.  59.  (A  similar  collection  of  Kant’s  notes  on  the  margins  of  his  own 
copy  of  the  “Kritik  of  Pure  Reason,”  edition  A.) 

R.  Reicke,  “Lose  Blatter  aus  Kant’s  Nachlass,”  2 vols.,  Konigsb.,  1889, 1895. 
(A  collection  of  manuscript  notes.) 

A.  Criticism  and  Commentary 
{On  the  Development  of  Kant's  Thought) 

E.  Caird,  “The  Critical  Philosophy  of  Immanuel  Kant,”  2 vols.,  Glasg.,  1889. 

F.  Paulsen,  “ Versuch  einer  Entwickelungsgeschichte  der  kantischen  Erkennt- 

nisstheorie,”  Leipz.,  1875.  (Lays  stress  on  the  rationalistic  aspect  of 
Kant.) 

B.  Erdmann,  “Kant’s  Kriticismus,”  ibid.,  1878.  (Lays  stress  on  the  scepti- 

cal factor  in  Kant’s  development.) 

W.  Windelband,  “Die  verschiedenen  Phasen  der  kantischen  Lehre  vom 
Ding-an-sich,”  Vierteljahrschr.  f.  wiss.  Philos.,  1877. 

{On  the  Kritik  of  Pure  Reason) 

G.  S.  Morris,  “Kant’s  Critique  of  Pure  Reason,”  Chicago,  1882. 

J.  H.  Stirling,  “Text-book  to  Kant,”  Edin.  and  Lond.,  1881.  (Includes 
translation  in  part  of  /Esthetic,  Categories,  and  Schemata.) 

H.  Vaihinger,  “Commentar  zu  Kant’s  Kritik  der  reinen  Vernunft,”  I.  and 

II.,  Berl.  u.  Leipz.,  1881,  1892. 

This  monumental  work  presents  a careful  compendium  of  all  criticisms, 
including  those  of  Kant’s  contemporaries,  which  had  been  made  upon 
the  Preface  and  upon  the  ^Esthetic  of  the  “Kritik  of  Pure  Reason.” 
This  compilation  is  supplemented  by  original  and  discriminating  com- 
ment. 

{General) 

R.  Adamson,  “The  Philosophy  of  Kant,”  Edin.,  1879. 

E.  Adickes,  “Kantstudien,”  Leipz.,  1895. 

C.  Cantoni,  “E.  Kant,”  3 vols.,  Milan,  1879-1883. 

T.  H.  Green,  “Lectures  on  the  Philosophy  of  Kant.”  (In  “Works,”  II., 
Lond.,  1893.) 

F.  Paulsen,  “Was  uns  Kant  sein  kann,”  Viertelschr.  f.  wiss.  Philos.,  i88r, 

“Immanuel  Kant,  sein  Leben  und  Lehre.”  Transl.  by  J.  E.  Creighton, 
N.Y.,  1902. 

A.  Schopenhauer,  “Kritik  der  kantischen  Philosophic”  (cited  infra,  p.  554). 

For  critics  contemporary  with  Kant,  cf.  also  the  writers  cited  infra,  p.  534. 
For  the  present-day  issue  of  Kantian  criticism,  cf.  Vaihinger’s  journal,  “ Kant- 
studien.” Among  the  histories  of  philosophy,  cf.  especially  that  of  Fischer. 
Cf.  also  the  following  commentators:  Cohen,  Drobisch,  Lasswitz,  Simmel, 
Watson,  cited  by  Rand. 


The  Kritik  of  Pure  Reason  513 


III.  Outline  of  the  “ Kritik  of  Pure  Reason” 

The  chapter  on  Kant’s  philosophy  which  this  book  contains  is 
based  mainly  on  his  chief  work,  the  “Kritik  of  Pure  Reason,” 
though  departing  widely  from  its  order  of  topics.  This  divergence 
is,  indeed,  necessary,  if  a reasonably  clear  and  rightly  shaded 
view  of  Kant’s  philosophy  is  to  be  given,  for  the  “Kritik,”  as  it 
stands,  is  an  almost  inextricably  confused  tangle  of  different  threads 
of  argument.  It  is  marred  by  useless  reiterations,  by  subtle  self- 
contradictions,  and  by  misleading  symmetries  of  arrangement. 
There  is  a double  explanation  of  the  greater  number  of  these  glaring 
faults  of  style.  They  bear  witness,  in  the  first  place,  to  the  oppo- 
sition, so  often  noted,  between  Kant’s  native  conservatism  and 
his  revolutionary  criticism.  They  are  due,  also,  to  the  fact  that 
Kant  worked  ten  years,  and  over,  on  the  “Kritik.”  In  its  present 
form  the  book  contains,  side  by  side,  the  formulations  of  Kant’s 
thought  at  different  times  during  all  these  years ; since  in  the  end 
he  very  loosely  and  uncritically  put  together  the  various  sections 
which  compose  the  “Kritik.”  1 

The  “Kritik  of  Pure  Reason”  has  three  main  parts:  the  Aes- 
thetic, the  Analytic,  and  the  Dialectic ? Aesthetic  and  Analytic  are 
alike  in  that  each  aims  to  study  an  aspect,  or  aspects,  of  the  world 
of  experience.  The  Dialectic,  on  the  other  hand,  discusses  the 
nature  of  realities  beyond  experience.  Regarded  as  doctrine  of 
knowledge,  the  Aesthetic  is  the  study  of  the  perception  of  objects, 
the  Analytic  investigates  our  thought  about  objects,  and  the  Dia- 
lectic is  the  study  of  reason  — which  Kant  defines  as  search  for  the 
unknown.  As  has  already  appeared,  the  division  lines  are  not 
closely  drawn;  discussions  of  unknown  reality  appear  in  every 
part  of  the  “Kritik,”  and,  on  the  other  hand,  the  Dialectic,  in 
spite  of  its  negative  purpose,  contains  an  essential  part  of  Kant’s 

1 For  detailed  proof  of  this,  cf.  E.  Adickes,  Introduction  and  Footnotes  to  his 
edition  of  the  Kritik,  and  “ Kant’s  Systematik  als  systembildender  Faktor,”  1887. 

For  evidence  of  Kant’s  long  preoccupation  with  the  “Kritik,”  cf.  his  corre- 
spondence with  Herz.  The  following  abbreviated  extracts  suggest  its  scope: 
“June,  1771:  Busy  with  a work,  * The  Limits  of  Sense  and  Reason  . . “Feb- 
ruary, 1772 : I am  now  ready  to  publish  a ‘Kritik  of  Pure  Reason,’ ...  [a  discus- 
sion] of  the  nature  of  theoretical  and  of  practical  knowledge  — of  which  the  first 
part  will  appear  within  three  months.  . . .”  “Nov.,  1776:  The  book  is  held 
back  by  a main  objection,  as  if  by  a dam.  . . .”  “Aug.,  1777:  I hope  to  finish  the 
‘Kritik’ this  winter.  . . .”  “Aug.,  1778:  I am  still  working  unweariedly.  . . .” 

2 The  exact  division  of  the  Kritik  is  shown  in  the  reproduced  table  of  contents 
on  pp.  514  seq. 

2 L 


5H 


Immanuel  Kant 


positive  doctrine.  In  view  of  these  defects,  the  outline  of  Kant’s 
teaching  has  been  given,  in  this  book,  under  headings  which  differ 
from  those  of  the  “Kritik.”1  The  two  schemes  of  classification 
correspond,  roughly  speaking,  in  the  following  way:  Part  of  the 
teaching  about  the  known  object  (the  space  and  time  doctrine)  is 
contained  in  the  ^Esthetic,  the  rest  in  the  Analytic  (the  category 
doctrine  and  the  teaching  about  the  “thing  outside  me”).  The 
general  teaching  about  the  transcendental  self  is  contained  in  the 
Analytic , but  the  doctrine  of  the  transcendental  self  as  moral  and 
free  forms  part  of  the  Dialectic.  The  doctrine  of  unknown  reali- 
ties and  of  the  limits  of  knowledge  appears  in  all  parts  of  the 
“Kritik.” 

All  this  is  made  clearer  by  the  annotations  of  the  greatly  abbre- 
viated Table  of  Contents  which  follows.  The  references  are  to 
those  pages  of  this  book  which  discuss  the  different  divisions  of 
the  “Kritik.” 

Kritik  of  Pure  Reason 

Preface. 

Introduction. 

I.  Transcendental  Doctrine  of  Elements 

Part  I.  Transcendental  .Esthetic. 

(The  space  and  time  elements  of  the  object  as  known.  200  seq., 
A priori  perception.)  516  seq. 

Part  II.  Transcendental  Logic. 

Division  I.  Transcendental  Analytic. 

Book  I.  The  Analytic  of  Concepts. 

Section  I.  The  Guiding  Thread  for  the  Discovery  of 
the  Pure  Concepts  of  the  Understanding. 

(Enumeration  and  first  discussion  of  the 

categories,  or  relational  elements  of  ob-  204  seq., 
jects  as  known.)  526  seq. 

Section  II.  The  Deduction  of  Pure  Concepts  of  the 
Understanding. 

(This  section  considers : — 

(1)  the  argument  for  the  existence  of  the 

transcendental  self  (§§15-17).  226  seq. 

(2)  the  doctrine  of  the  transcendental  self 

in  relation  with  its  object  (§§18-19).  229  sei- 

(3)  the  doctrine  of  the  limits  of  knowledge 

(§§22-23),  especially  the  teaching 

about  the  unknown  self  (§§24-25).)  241  seq 

1 Cf.  the  sub-heads  of  Chapter  7,  pp.  198  seq. 


The  Kritik  of  Pure  Reason  5 1 5 


Book  II.  Analytic  of  Principles. 

Section  I.  Schematism  of  the  Pure  Concepts  of  the 
Understanding. 

(This  section  accentuates  the  distinction 
between  sense  and  understanding,  and 
suggests  that  the  time  consciousness  is  a 
link  between  them.  The  difficulty  is 
imaginary  and  the  solution  unsatisfactory. 
Cf.  Caird,  op.  cit .,  I.,  p.  457 2 ; Adickes, 
edition  of  the  “Kritik,”  marginal  notes, 
Paulsen,  op.  cit.,  Pt.  I.,  Bk.  I.,  §1, 
5>  ^*) 

Section  II.  System  of  All  Principles  of  Pure  Under- 
standing. (Doctrine  of  the  categories, 
continued  from  Book  I.,  §1.) 


(1)  Axioms  of  Perception,  207  seq., 

527  seq. 

(2)  Anticipations  of  Observation,  208  seq., 

528 

(3)  Analogies  of  Experience. 

The  permanence  of  substance.  529  seq. 

The  law  of  causality.  210  seq. 

The  law  of  reciprocal  determination.  217  seq., 

531  seq. 

(4)  Postulates  of  Empirical  Thought. 

Possibility.  532 

Actuality.  532 

(Inserted  here  is  the  Refutation 
of  Idealism.) 

Necessity.  533 

Section  III.  The  Ground  of  the  Distinction  of  Objects 
in  general  into  Phenomena  and  Nou- 
mena,  236  seq. 


(The  doctrine  of  the  unknown  things-in-  254 
themselves.  A section  properly  belong- 
ing in  the  Dialectic.) 

Appendix:  Amphiboly  of  Concepts  of 
Reflection.  (Chiefly  a commentary 
on  Leibniz.) 

Division  II.  Transcendental  Dialectic. 

Introduction. 

Book  I.  The  Concepts  of  Pure  Reason. 

(Introductory  and  unimportant.) 

Book  II.  The  Dialectical  Conclusions  of  Pure  Reason. 

(Doctrine  of  the  Unknown.) 

Section  I.  The  Paralogisms  of  Pure  Reason.  244  seq. 

(Doctrine  that  the  soul,  as  traditionally 
conceived,  and  the  transcendental  self 
are  unknown.) 


Immanuel  Kant 


5i6 


Section  II.  The  Antinomy  of  Pure  Reason. 

(Doctrine  of  the  necessary  paradoxes.) 

Antinomy  1.  (The  endlessness  and  the 
completeness  of  space  and  time.) 

Antinomy  2.  (The  indivisibility  and  the 
divisibility  of  matter.) 

Antinomy  3.  (Phenomenal  and  free  caus- 
ality.) 

Antinomy  4.  (A  necessary  cause  and  an 
infinite  regress  of  causes.) 

(An  anticipation  of  Section  III.  below.) 

Section  III.  The  Ideal  of  Pure  Reason. 

(Discussion  of  the  nature  of  God,  and  of 
the  arguments  for  God’s  existence.) 

The  Ontological  Argument. 

The  Cosmological  Argument. 

The  Physico-theological  Argument. 

II.  Transcendental  Doctrine  of  Method 
(By  far  the  shorter  part  of  the  Kritik,  and  relatively  unimportant  in  content.) 

IV.  Detailed  Study  of  Certain  Sections  of  the  “ Kritik 
of  Pure  Reason” 

To  assist  the  serious  student  of  the  text  of  the  “Kritik”  and  to 
complete,  in  outline,  the  discussion  of  the  book,  the  following  brief 
comments  on  Kant’s  teachings  about  space  and  time  and  about  the 
categories  are  added  here.  They  were  excluded  from  the  body 
of  the  book  where  they  properly  belong,  on  the  ground  that  the 
consideration  of  details  would  have  obscured  the  general  argument. 
By  this  method  it  is  believed  that  all  essential  parts  of  the  “Kritik” 
are  considered,  in  fairly  close  relation  to  the  text,  either  in  Chap- 
ter 7 or  in  this  Appendix. 


521  seg* 
524 

256  seq. 
248  seq. 

247  seq. 

248  seq. 
250  seq. 


a.  THE  SPACE  AND  TIME  DOCTRINE 
I.  The  Arguments  of  the  Aesthetic 

This  portion  of  the  “Kritik”  furnishes  a good  practice  ground 
for  the  beginner  in  Kant.  It  is  short  and  unusually  clear;  yet 
representative  of  some  of  the  more  important  tendencies  of  Kant’s 
thought.  From  the  larger  standpoint  of  modern  philosophy, 
this  division  of  Kant’s  thought  has  on  the  other  hand  merely  a 


Kant's  Doctrine  of  Space  and  Time  517 


temporary  and  individual  significance,  since  his  category  teaching 
contains  all  that  is  permanent  in  the  space  and  time  doctrine.  The 
following  discussion  follows  the  order  of  the  “Kritik,”  in  which 
Kant  argues,  first,  the  a priority,  already  defined  as  independence 
of  sense  involving  universality  and  necessity,  second,  the  per- 
ceptual character,  and  third,  the  subjectivity  of  space  and  time. 
F or  the  a priority  of  space  and  time,  Kant  has  three  arguments : 1 — • 

(1)  Space  and  time  — he  teaches  — unlike  color,  odor,  and  the 
like,  are  not  secondary  and  derived  conceptions,  framed  by  the 
mind  after  it  has  come  to  know  external  things  (and  events) ; for 
the  consciousness  of  an  external  thing  is  already  a spatial  conscious- 
ness, and  the  consciousness  of  an  event  is  a temporal  consciousness. 
The  essential  part  of  this  argument,  as  already  paraphrased  in 
the  chapter  on  Kant,  is  the  correct  teaching  that  both  the  spatial 
object  and  the  temporal  event  include  relation.  There  are,  how- 
ever, two  difficulties  with  the  argument  as  stated.  As  applied  to 
space,  it  is  at  fault  because  of  its  implication  that  every  external 
phenomenon  is  spatial.  For  it  is  at  least  possible  — by  many 
psychologists  it  is  confidently  thought  — that  certain  external  phe- 
nomena, sounds  for  example,  are  not  spatial.  Evidently,  therefore, 
it  is  improper  to  identify  ‘spatial’  and  ‘external’  without  further 
argument.  In  the  second  place,  Kant  seems  to  confuse  a priority 
with  chronological  priority.2  In  so  far  as  he  means  by  a priori 
‘ earlier  in  experience  ’ he  is  unjustified  in  his  assertion  that  the 
relations  — spatial,  temporal,  and  the  rest  — are  a priori.  For, 
as  Kant  himself  often  acknowledges,  it  contradicts  all  recorded 
experience  to  assert  that  our  consciousness  of  a relation  is  earlier 
than  our  consciousness  of  its  terms.3  Neither  criticism,  how- 
ever, affects  the  main  contentions  of  Kant:  (1)  that  space 
and  time  include  relations;  and  (2)  that  relations  are  neces- 
sary. 

(2)  Space  and  time,  Kant  argues  in  the  second  place,  are  a priori 
because  one  can  never  conceive  of  there  being  no  space  and  no  time, 
whereas  one  can  well  imagine  a space  with  no  objects  in  it  and  a 
time  empty  of  events.  This  statement  must,  however,  be  chal- 

‘A,  pp.  23  seq.  and  30  so?.  B,  pp.  38  seq.  and  46  seq.  W.,  pp.  24  seq.  and  29  seq. 
(Cf.  supra,  Chapter  7,  pp.  200  seq.) 

2 Cf.  the  first  space-argument  and  the  attempted  proof  of  subjectivity  from  a 
priority,  pp.  202  and  521. 

3 Cf.  for  the  same  criticism,  Caird,  op.  cit.,  I.,  pp.  286  seq. ; and  F.  C.  S.  Schiller, 
“Axioms  as  Postulates,”  §§  17  and  21,  in  “Personal  Idealism.” 


Immanuel  Kant 


518 

lenged.  Doubtless  one  is  able,  as  Kant  teaches,  to  ‘think  away’ 
any  given  objects  and  events:  one  can  imagine  a room  without 
furniture  in  it,  or  a garden  without  a house  in  it ; and  one  can  imag- 
ine that  the  Greeks  did  not  conquer  at  Marathon,  or  that  the  Alex- 
andrian library  was  never  burned.  But  these  possibilities  do  not 
bear  out  Kant’s  contention  that  utterly  empty  space  and  time  abso- 
lutely without  events  are  imaginable.  For  however  rigorous  an 
effort  one  makes  to  imagine  empty  space,  one  finds  oneself 
always  foiled  in  the  attempt.  Often,  for  example,  one  is  conscious 
of  a dim  image  of  one’s  own  body  looking  at,  or  groping  about  in, 
supposedly  empty  space ; and  even  when  one  succeeds  in  banishing 
all  images  of  concrete  objects  from  the  image  of  Space-as-a-whole, 
that  space,  if  visualized,  has  of  necessity  some  color  however  vague, 
it  is,  for  example,  black  or  dull  gray  or  deep  blue.  In  other  words : 
one  never  imagines  space  without  at  the  same  time  imagining  some 
object  or  objects,  or  at  any  rate  some  sense  quality,  which  is  spatial. 
And  similarly  one  is  never  conscious  of  a time  which  is  not  the  time 
of  some  series  of  events  however  slight  or  unimportant.  Kant’s 
second  argument  for  a priority  may,  thus,  be  set  aside  on  the  ground 
that  it  misstates  the  facts  of  experience. 

(3)  Kant’s  third  argument  for  the  a priority  (that  is,  the  in- 
dependence of  sense)  of  the  space  consciousness  is  in  truth  a 
corollary  from  the  first.  This  argument,  which  he  sometimes  calls 
a ‘transcendental  deduction,’1  runs  thus:  Geometrical  truths  are 
both  necessary  and  universally  admitted.  It  is  certain  that  the  sum 
of  the  angles  of  a triangle  is  equal  to  two  right  angles  and  that  the 
square  on  the  hypothenuse  equals  the  sum  of  the  squares  on  altitude 
and  base.  But  geometrical  truths  have  to  do  with  space-relations; 
and  it  follows  that  the  space-consciousness  is  a priori  — necessary 
and  universal.  The  argument  is  based  on  the  evident  contrast 
between  the  propositions  of  geometry  and  statements  — for  exam- 
ple — about  the  odor  or  color  of  a flower,  or  the  polish  of  a chair. 
The  necessity  of  geometry  is  reasonably  attributed,  Kant  teaches, 
to  the  character  of  its  subject-matter,  space-relations  (Kant 
names  them  space-forms).2  And  similarly  the  necessity  which  we 
attribute  to  the  succession  of  nature  phenomena  argues  for  the 


1 In  edition  A,  this  is  the  third  of  the  space  arguments  (p.  25);  in  edition  B, 
it  has  a section  to  itself  (§  3,  p.  40).  Cf.  W.,  25,  27.  The  time  argument  is 
similarly  ordered  except  that  in  edition  B the  argument  appears  in  both  positions. 

2 For  comment,  cf.  supra,  pp.  2203  seq. 


Kant's  Doctrine  of  Space  and  Time  519 


necessity,  and  thus  for  the  unsensational  character,  of  our  con- 
sciousness of  temporal  succession. 

In  commenting  upon  these  arguments,  it  is  necessary  to  dis- 
tinguish between  the  teachings  about  space  and  about  time. 
So  far  as  time  is  concerned,  Kant  is  justified  in  asserting  its 
peculiar  necessity,  for  time  is  precisely  the  relation  of  necessary 
connection  between  irreversible  phenomena.1  But  as  regards 
Kant’s  treatment  of  space,  that  comment  holds  good  which  has 
been  made  on  his  general  conception  of  relation:2  he  rightly 
teaches  the  necessity  of  spatial,  as  of  temporal,  relation,  but  he 
wrongly  regards  this  necessity  as  a distinguishing  feature  of  re- 
lations. On  the  other  hand,  as  has  been  pointed  out,  logically 
necessary  assertions  may  be  made  about  mere  sensations.  If  this 
criticism  is  correct,  the  permanently  valuable  part  of  Kant’s  space- 
doctrine  is  the  reiterated  teaching  that  space  is,  in  part  at  least,3 
relational. 

Besides  arguing  thus  for  the  unsensational  and  a priori  nature 
of  the  space  and  time  consciousness,  Kant  has  two  arguments  to 
prove  them  perceptual.  (It  will  be  remembered  that  when  Kant 
wrote  the  ^Esthetic,  the  first  division  of  the  “Kritik,”  he  was  still 
in  part  a Wolffian.  At  this  period,  therefore,  he  wished  to  prove 
space  and  time  perceptual,  for  if  they  were  forms  of  thought  he 
would  be  obliged  on  his  persisting  Wolffian  principles  to  suppose 
the  existence  of  an  extra-mental  space  and  time  exactly  correspond- 
ing with  them,4  whereas  he  had  already  advanced  beyond  Wolff  to 
the  conception  of  space  and  time  as  subjective.)  Kant’s  arguments 
for  the  perceptual  nature  of  space  and  time  are  in  brief  as  fol- 
lows : “We  can  be  conscious,”  5 he  says,  “only  of  one  single  Space 
[or  Time] ; and  if  we  speak  of  many  spaces  [or  times],  we  mean  by 
these,  parts  of  one  and  the  same  all-inclusive  space  [or  time]. 
These  parts,  moreover,  cannot  precede  the  one  all-inclusive  space 
[or  time]  as  the  parts  of  which  it  is  composed,  but  can  only  be 
thought  as  in  it.”  Now  there  is  no  doubt  that  Kant  here  suggests 
a correct  criterion  of  the  perception  as  contrasted  with  the  concrete 
general  notion:  the  perception  is  primarily  apprehended  as  one, 
and  only  later  analyzed,  whereas  the  concrete  concept,  or  class- 


1 Cf.  supra,  p.  2132.  2 Cf.  supra,  pp.  220  seq. 

3 Cf.  infra,  p.  52s2.  4 Cf.  supra,  p.  199. 

6 On  space:  ed.  A,  Arg.  4-5,  p.  25;  ed.  B,  Arg.  3-4,  pp.  39-40;  W.,  25.  On 

time:  ed.  A,  Arg.  4-5,  p.  32;  ed.  B,  Arg.  4-5,  pp.  47^48;  W.,  30. 


520 


Immanuel  Kant 


notion,  is  built  up  gradually  out  of  its  parts.  It  is  also  true  that 
Total  Space  is  imagined  by  the  mathematician , as  one  whole,  funda- 
mental to  its  parts.  There  is  none  the  less  a decisive  objection  to 
Kant’s  conclusion  — the  fact,  namely,  that  the  consciousness  of 
space  as  one  is  not  a primitive  experience,  but  a consciousness  which 
has  been  gradually  built  up,  in  the  largely  forgotten  past  of  each 
individual,  by  the  mental  addition  of  the  largest  spaces  which  have 
been  objects  of  direct  experience.1  As  a matter  of  fact,  therefore, 
the  space-consciousness  does  not  meet  the  criterion  of  perception : 
it  is  a result  of  synthesizing,  though  not  of  generalizing,  conscious- 
ness, that  is  to  say,  it  has  been  made  up  of  parts,  before  it  is  analyzed 
into  them.  And  if  this  be  true  of  space,  it  cannot  be  doubted  in 
the  case  of  time,  which  consists  primarily  of  its  parts;  whose 
oneness  is  the  relation  of  these  parts;  and  which  is  called  a One, 
only  when  it  is  metaphorically  represented  by  a spatial  image.2 

Kant’s  second  argument  infers  the  perceptual  nature  of  space 
and  time  from  their  alleged  infinitude.  He  calls  space  infinite 
because  beyond  every  spatial  boundary  — a horizon,  for  example 
— one  can  always  imagine  the  existence  of  still  more  space ; and 
because  every  moment  of  time,  however  indefinitely  distant  in  the 
past  or  in  the  future,  must  be  thought  of  as  having  its  own  past 
and  its  own  future.  The  chief  difficulty  with  this  argument  is 
Kant’s  failure  to  show  that  infinity  is  a character  of  the  percept 
exclusively.  Here,  as  in  the  preceding  argument,  his  opposition 
between  percept  and  concept  really  applies  to  one  class  only  of 
concepts  — namely,  to  the  concrete  general  notions,  the  class  no- 
tions. He  is  right  in  the  teaching  that  this  sort  of  concept,  built 
up  as  it  is  from  experience,  lacks  an  infinity  of  predicates ; but  he 
does  not  and  cannot  show  that  this  is  the  only  type  of  concept. 
‘Pure  concepts’  of  the  infinite  may, on  the  other  hand, occur,  for  all 
Kant  shows  to  the  contrary.3 

It  must  be  borne  in  mind  that  the  insufficiency  of  these  arguments 
for  the  perceptual  character  of  the  space  and  time  consciousness 
does  not  affect  Kant’s  main  purpose — to  prove  against  Hume  the 
unsensational  and  a priori  character  of  space  and  time,  and  then 

1 The  discussion  of  this  subject  belongs  rather  to  psychology  than  to  philosophy. 
Cf.  Kant’s  virtual  admission,  in  his  discussion  of  the  category  of  totality,  that  the 
consciousness  of  space  is  gradually  built  up  {supra,  p.  207). 

2 Cf.  Kant’s  admission  of  this,  B,  § 6,  65. 

* It  may  be  pointed  out  also  that  the  teaching  about  the  infinitude  of  percep- 
tion virtually  contradicts  the  thesis  of  Kant’s  second  antinomy. 


Kant's  Doctrine  of  Space  and  Time  521 

to  prove  against  Wolff  that  space  and  time  are  subjective  — ideal 
in  character.  To  the  consideration  of  the  arguments  for  subjec- 
tivity it  is  now  necessary  to  turn.  As  contained  in  the  /. Esthetic , 
Kant’s  only  argument  for  subjectivity  is  from  the  a priority  of 
space  and  time.  “Space,”  he  says,  “represents  no  attribute  of 
things  in  themselves  . . . which  would  remain  if  all  subjective 
conditions  of  perception  were  abstracted  from.  For  neither  abso- 
lute nor  relative  conditions  of  things  can  be  perceived  a priori  — 
in  other  words,  before  the  existence  of  the  things  to  which  they 
belong.”1  This  argument,  as  stated,  is  really  based,  it  will  be  ob- 
served, not  on  the  a priority  — the  necessity  and  universality  — 
but  on  the  priority , in  actual  experience,  of  the  space  and  time 
consciousness.2  And  if  we  grant  its  premise,  that  is,  if  we  grant 
that  we  are  conscious  of  space  and  time  before  we  become  con- 
scious of  the  existence  of  extra-mental  objects,  by  receiving  sen- 
sations through  their  influence,  then  it  is,  indeed,  evident  that 
space  and  time  are  not  themselves  impressions  corresponding  with 
these  same  objects.  But  it  will  be  remembered  that  Kant  did  not 
prove  that  the  consciousness  of  space  and  time  is  prior  to  impres- 
sions from  extra-mental  objects;  on  the  other  hand,  he  success- 
fully proved  merely  that  the  consciousness  of  space  and  time  is 
not  later  than  the  consciousness  of  objects  of  our  experience. 
Kant’s  first  and  most  definite  argument  for  the  subjectivity  of  space 
and  time  is  therefore  based  on  an  invalid  premise.  This  is  the 
more  strange,  since  he  might  successfully  have  argued  the  sub- 
jectivity of  space  and  time  from  the  a priority  strictly  conceived, 
and  not  from  the  falsely  assumed  priority  of  the  space  and  time 
consciousness.  He  might,  in  other  words,  have  said,  as  indeed 
he  plainly  says  in  other  connections,3  that  necessary  propositions 
never  could  be  made  about  realities  independent  of  us,  whereas  we 
have  the  right  to  make  them  of  our  own  ideas.  From  the  neces- 
sity of  propositions  about  space  and  time,  there  would  then  have 
followed  their  subjectivity. 

2.  The  Arguments  of  the  First  and  Second  Antinomies 

Kant  argues  the  subjectivity  of  space  and  time  not  only  from 
their  a priority  but  from  their  contradictoriness.  This  argument 

1 A,  26,  32;  B,  42,  49;  W.,  27,  31. 

2 Cf.  supra,  p.  517. 

3 Cf.  A,  196;  B,  241 ; W.,  115. 


522 


Immanuel  Kant 


is  contained  in  a part  of  the  “Kritik  ” widely  removed  from  the 
space  and  time  arguments  of  the  ^Esthetic  — namely  in  the  Dia- 
lectic, the  last  division  of  Part  I.  of  the  “Kritik.”  1 Yet  the  antino- 
mies, though  they  appear  in  so  late  a part  of  the  “Kritik,”  are 
the  result  of  a relatively  early  phase  of  Kant’s  thinking.  The 
gist  of  the  argument  contained  in  them  has  been  stated  untech- 
nically  in  the  text  of  Chapter  7.  For  this  reason  and  because  the 
first  two  antinomies  make  no  important  addition  to  the  essential 
teaching  of  the  “Kritik,”  the  outline  which  follows  is  purposely 
abbreviated.  Kant’s  statement  of  the  first  antinomy  is  as  follows : 

1.  (Thesis.)  The  world  must  have  a beginning  in  time,  else 
at  every  particular  moment  of  time  an  infinity  of  time  has  elapsed. 
Thus,  there  would  be  a completed  infinity,  which  is  impossible. 

The  world  must  be  bounded  in  space,  else  it  would  consist  of  an 
infinite  number  of  parts.  But  an  infinite  time  would  be  requisite 
in  which  to  apprehend  the  infinite  space,  and  this  has  been  proved 
to  be  impossible. 

2.  (Antithesis.)  The  world  cannot  have  a beginning  in  time, 
else  an  empty  time  would  precede  it,  and  in  an  empty  time  there 
would  be  no  reason  for  any  beginning. 

The  world  cannot  be  limited  in  space,  for  it  would  have  to  be 
limited  by  empty  space,  and  empty  space  — which  is  nothing — 
can  stand  in  no  relation  whatever. 

Kant’s  conclusion  (which  applies  the  antinomy  not  merely  to 
space  and  time  but  to  phenomena  in  general)  is  best  stated  in  a 
closing  paragraph  of  what  he  calls  the  “ Critical  Discussion.”  The 
antinomy,  he  says,  has  brought  to  light  the  following  dilemma: 
if  the  world  be  a whole-existing-in-itself,  it  must  be  either  finite 
or  infinite.  But  the  first  as  well  as  the  second  of  these  alternatives 
has  been  proved  untrue  (by  the  thesis  and  antithesis  respectively 
of  the  first  antinomy).  Therefore  the  world  cannot  be  a reality 


1 There  are  four  antinomies  of  which  the  theses  affirm  and  the  antitheses 
deny  (according  to  Kant,  with  equal  necessity)  the  following  propositions:  — 

1.  The  beginning  of  the  world  in  time  and  its  spatial  limitedness. 

2.  The  occurrence  of  simple,  or  indivisible,  material  realities. 

3.  Free  causes. 

4.  A necessary  being. 

Kant  groups  these  antinomies  together  on  the  ground  that  each  is  a necessary 
illusion  of  the  reason.  A study  of  them  shows,  however,  that  the  first  two  connect 
themselves  with  the  space  and  time  doctrine;  the  third  with  the  doctrine  of  the 
free  self;  the  fourth  with  Kant’s  teaching  about  God.  Cf.  supra,  pp.  257  and  248. 


Kant's  Doctrine  of  Space  and  Time  523 


existing  in  itself ; whereas,  since  observation  bears  abundant  witness 
to  the  paradoxes  of  consciousness,  this  same  contradictory  temporal 
and  spatial  world  well  may  be  a composite  of  mere  phenomena 
of  consciousness  or  ideas  (V orstellungeri) . 

Before  commenting,  even  briefly,  on  this  antinomy  doctrine, 
it  is  essential  to  observe  that  it  presupposes  throughout  the  older 
negative  conception,  not  the  modern  positive  view,  of  the  infinite.1 
That  is  to  say,  it  conceives  of  the  infinite  as  in  some  sense  the  end- 
less. But  even  judged  on  this  basis,  the  first  antinomy  does  not 
justify  the  assertion  of  Kant  that  thesis  and  antithesis  are  alike 
valid.  The  antithesis  is  indeed  an  incontrovertible  statement  of 
these  truths;  (1)  that  time  — the  related  succession  of  moments 
— is  without  beginning,  since  every  alleged  first  moment  al- 
ways by  definition  presupposes  a still  earlier  one;  and  (2)  that 
space  must  be  thought  as  infinitely  extensible  since  space  is,  by 
definition,  that  whose  supposed  boundaries  must  lie  between  parts 
of  itself.  The  thesis  is,  on  the  other  hand,  invalid  since  it 
makes  the  false  assumption  that  a series  completed  at  a given 
moment  might  be  infinite.2  If  this  criticism  be  admitted,  Kant’s 
solution  of  the  antinomies  is  discredited,  for  that  assumes  that 
thesis  as  well  as  antithesis  is  proved  true.  Yet  curiously  enough 
the  main  purpose  of  Kant’s  antinomy  teaching  is  not  hereby 
affected.  For  from  the  truth  of  the  antithesis,  as  clearly  as  from 
the  alleged  contradiction  between  thesis  and  antithesis,  one  may 
infer  the  probability  that  time  and  space,  whose  boundaries  ever 
elude  the  seeker,  are  not  characteristics  of  an  immutable  reality- 
independent-of-consciousness. 

1 According  to  this  positive  conception  the  infinite  is  the  self-representative; 
it  is,  in  other  words,  that  “which  can  be  put  into  one-to-one  correspondence  with 
a part  of  itself.”  Its  endlessness  is  a corollary  from  this  positive  character.  (For 
statements  of  this  doctrine,  cf.  E.  V.  Huntington,  The  “Continuum  as  a Type  of 
Order,”  Reprint  by  Harvard  Publication  office  from  Annals  of  Mathematics, 
1905,  secs.  7 and  27;  Dedekind,  “Was  sind  und  was  sollen  die  Zahlen,”  Engl, 
transl.  in  “Essays  on  Number,”  1901,  §§  64  seq.;  Royce,  “The  World  and  the  Indi- 
vidual,” I.,  “Supplementary  Essay,”  esp.  pp.  497  and  507  seq.,  with  the  works 
there  cited,  especially  those  of  Bolzano  and  Cantor.  Cf.  also,  Couturat,  “De 
l’lnfini  Mathematique.”  For  Bertrand  Russell’s  discussion  of  the  Infinite  and  his 
criticism  of  Kant’s  first  two  antinomies,  cf.  “The  Principles  of  Mathematics,” 
Chapters  XIII.,  XLIII.,  LII.  Cf.  Kant’s  “ Allgemeine  Naturgeschichte  und  Theorie 
des  Himmels,”  III.,  Hartenstein,  I.,  p.  332,  cited  by  Couturat,  for  an  apparent  ap- 
proach to  the  positive  conception  of  the  infinite. 

2 The  argument  of  the  thesis  as  applied  to  space  need  not  be  separately  consid- 
ered, for  it  is  based  directly  upon  the  time-argument.  Infinite  space  is  argued  impos- 
sible on  the  ground  that  an  infinite  time  would  be  needed  in  which  to  apprehend  it. 


524 


Immanuel  Kant 


The  second  antinomy  has  to  do  with  space,  not  with  time.1  It 
alleges  on  the  one  hand  the  existence  of  indivisible  units,  and  on 
the  other  hand  the  necessity  of  the  infinite  divisibility  of  space. 
It  is  equally  necessary,  Kant  holds,  to  assert  the  existence  of  indi- 
visible spatial  units  and  to  assert  the  infinite  divisibility  of  space. 
And  he  draws,  as  before,  the  general  conclusion  that  space,  of 
which  such  contradictory  assertions  may  be  made,  must  be  sub- 
jective. The  decisive  objection  to  this  reasoning  is  that  Kant  is 
here  using  the  term  space  in  two  different  senses,  so  that  the  an- 
tinomy is  due  to  verbal  contradiction  rather  than  to  the  essentially 
contradictory  conception  of  space.  For,  on  the  one  hand,  the 
thesis  is  true  of  space  as  perceived,  since  there  certainly  are  units 
of  space  than  which  no  smaller  can  be  perceived,  and  space  is  in 
this  sense  divisible  into  simple  parts.  And,  on  the  other  hand, 
the  antithesis  is  true  of  space  as  thought,  that  is,  of  space  as  the 
object  of  the  mathematical  consciousness;  for  no  contradiction 
is  involved  in  the  mathematically  fruitful  conception  of  the  end- 
less divisibility  of  the  spatial.  Thus  regarded,  the  antinomy 
vanishes. 

In  conclusion,  the  main  difficulties  of  Kant’s  space  and  time 
doctrine  will  be  summarily  restated.  In  the  chapter  on  Kant  the 
effort  was  made  to  state  as  forcibly  as  possible  what  in  the  writer’s 
view  is  the  permanently  valuable  part  of  the  teaching.  Even  in 
the  more  critical  discussion  of  the  preceding  paragraphs  stress 
has  been  laid  wherever  possible  on  correct  conclusions,  even  when, 
as  has  been  indicated,  these  are  reached  through  faulty  argu- 
ments. A review  undertaken  in  a more  critical  spirit  is  not,  there- 
fore, an  unfair  addition  to  this  section.  The  main  criticisms  on 
Kant’s  space  and  time  doctrine  may  be  reduced  to  the  follow- 
ing:— 

i.  In  the  first  place,  it  is  in  the  writer’s  view  unquestionable  that 
all  which  is  correct  in  the  Kantian  doctrine  of  space  and  time  should 
be  included  under  his  discussion  of  the  categories.  Kant  has 
utterly  failed  in  his  arguments  to  prove  that  space  and  time  are 
purely  perceptual;  and  his  teaching  that  space  and  time  are  a 

1 As  has  appeared  from  the  statement  of  the  antinomy,  Kant  claims  to  be  dis- 
cussing ‘substances,’  by  which  he  here  means  material  things.  But  the  antinomy 
or  contradiction  turns  on  the  spatial  nature,  the  extension,  of  the  material  sub- 
stances. 


Kant's  Doctrine  of  Space  and  Time  525 


priori  depends  for  him  on  the  fact  that  they  are  manifestly  relational 
in  character.  The  segregation  of  space-relations  and  of  time 
from  the  categories  is  accordingly  misleading.  It  is  apparently 
due  to  the  unwarranted  distinction  between  sense  and  thought, 
and  between  sense-objects  and  thought-objects,  inherited  by  Kant 
from  Wolff.1 

2.  In  the  second  place,  Kant  fails  to  consider  what  is  certainly 
a possibility  — what,  indeed,  in  the  minds  of  many  psychologists 
is  a fact  — that  the  space  consciousness  includes,  along  with  its 
relations,  a strictly  sensational  factor.2  One  of  the  results  (a)  of 
this  inadequacy  is  the  unjustified  teaching,  just  criticised,  that 
space  truths  (geometrical  propositions)  have  a peculiar  necessity 
due  to  their  specifically  spatial  nature.  The  persistence  (6)  of 
Kant’s  futile  attempt  to  draw  an  exact  parallel  between  space  and 
time  is  another  outcome  of  this  neglect  to  acknowledge  that  there 
is  in  space  a sensational  factor  lacking  in  the  largely  relational  time 
consciousness.  And  finally  (c)  the  false  opposition  of  thesis  to  an- 
tithesis in  the  second  antinomy  would  hardly  be  made,  if  Kant 
distinguished  between  space-as-object-of-sense  (and  hence,  indeed, 
incapable  of  endless  subdivision)  and  space-as-thought. 

b.  THE  DOCTRINE  OF  THE  CATEGORIES 

By  ‘category’  Kant  means  either  a way  of  thinking,  an  unsensa- 
tional  as  opposed  to  a sensational  sort  of  consciousness  — - in  his 
own  words,  a concept  of  the  understanding; 3 or  else  he  means  the 
specific  object  or  content  of  such  thought  consciousness,  that  is, 
an  unsensational  element  or  factor  of  the  total  object  of  conscious- 
ness. The  term  ‘category’  means  literally  ‘predicate.’  Its  most 
general  signification  — common  to  Aristotle,  Kant,  and  Hegel 


1 Most  modern  mathematicians  have  rejected  Kant’s  intuitional,  or  percep- 
tional, conception  of  geometry.  They  regard  geometry,  like  the  other  branches 
of  mathematics,  as  a ‘ science  of  pure  concepts.’  Cf.  M.  BScher,  “ Conceptions 
and  Methods  of  Mathematics,”  Vol.  I.,  of  the  Report  of  the  St.  Louis  Congress  of 
Arts  and  Science;  L.  Couturat,  “Les  Principes  des  Mathematique,”  App.,  espe- 
cially p.  307;  J.  Roy ce,  “ Kant’s  Doctrine  of  the  Basis  of  Mathematics,”  Journal 
of  Philosophy,  II.,  pp.  197  sey.;  B.  Russell,  op.  cit.,  pp.  457  £f. 

2 The  irrelevant  statement,  midway  in  the  first  argument  for  the  perceptual 
nature  of  space,  ‘space  is  a given  magnitude,’  suggests  by  its  use  of  the  term  ‘given  ’ 
that  Kant  vaguely  recognizes  the  sense-character  of  space.  For  ‘given’  is  a predi- 
cate which  he  habitually  applies  to  the  sense-datum. 

3 Cf.  B,  § 20:  “Categories  are  nothing  else  except  functions  for  judging.” 


526 


Immanuel  Kant 


alike  — is  ‘fundamentally  important  class.’  The  main  difference 
between  Kant  and  Aristotle  in  their  enumeration  of  categories  is 
to  be  found  in  the  fact  that  Kant  starts  from  the  subjective  side, 
considering  the  categories  first  as  forms  of  conscious  judging, 
whereas  Aristotle  — herein  followed  by  Hegel  — regards  the  cate- 
gories as  relations  of  the  objects  of  knowledge.  Kant’s  opposition 
to  Hume,  as  has  appeared,  consists  in  great  part  in  pointing  out 
that  the  objects  of  our  consciousness  actually  do  contain  unsensa- 
tional  as  well  as  sensational  factors.  These  unsensational  ele- 
ments, as  treated  by  Kant,  really  fall  into  two  groups,  though  Kant 
does  not  formally  make  the  distinction.  Kant  implies,  in  other 
words,  that  our  judgments  are  of  two  fundamentally  important 
kinds:  they  are  either  judgments  about  the  relation  of  known 
objects  (or  parts  of  known  objects)  to  each  other;  or  they  are  judg- 
ments about  the  reality  attributed  to  objects.  In  the  same  way, 
the  characters  of  objects  as  known  by  thought,  not  by  sense,  are  of 
two  sorts:  first,  relations  of  known  objects  to  each  other  (‘scientific 
categories,’  I shall  call  them,  though  Kant  does  not  use  the  expres- 
sion); and  second,  reality,  unreality,  etc.  (‘epistemological  cate- 
gories,’ as  they  may  be  called).  Only  categories  in  the  former 
sense  have  been  discussed  in  the  body  of  this  book.  The  purpose 
of  the  present  section  is  to  outline  Kant’s  doctrine  of  categories 
as  a whole,  commenting,  however,  mainly  on  the  categories  not 
heretofore  discussed.  In  this  exposition  I shall  follow  Kant’s  list 
and  order,  but  shall  try  to  show  that  the  division  into  what  I have 
called  ‘scientific’  and  ‘epistemological’  categories  underlies  his 
grouping  and  that  his  own  principle  of  division  obscures  this  and 
other  important  distinctions. 

The  category  teaching  is  contained  in  two  arbitrarily  separated 
parts  of  the  “Kritik”:  first,  in  the  sections  numbered  in  the  sec- 
ond edition  9-15,  near  the  beginning  of  Book  I.  of  the  Analytic; 
second,  in  the  division  called  “System  of  all  Principles  of  Pure 
Understanding,”  1 in  Book  II.  of  the  Analytic.  The  earlier  sec- 
tions are  mainly  given  over  to  the  enumeration  and  grouping  of 
the  categories.  The  exact  number  and  the  principle  of  division 
Kant  gains  by  an  artificial  method.  Understanding  by  category 
the  object  of  thought,  he  argues  that  thought  is  judgrnent,  and 

1 A,  148  seq.;  B,  187  seq.;  W.,  92  seq.  The  word  ‘principle’  is  here  used 

roughly  to  mean  the  ‘application  of  a category.’ 


Kant's  Doctrine  of  the  Categories 


527 


that  because  a proposition  is  the  statement  of  a judgment,  there- 
fore there  must  be  as  many  sorts  of  category  as  there  are  sorts  of 
proposition.  His  Table  of  the  Categories,  accordingly,  is  based  upon 
the  traditional  Table  of  Propositions.1  This  principle  of  classi- 
fication, as  has  been  objected  by  most  of  Kant’s  critics,  is  at  fault 
in  the  following  way : it  too  uncritically  assumes  the  adequacy  of 
traditional  logic  to  express  all  metaphysically  important  classes 
of  judgment.  We  may  test  the  criticism  by  a brief  consideration 
of  the  different  categories,  as  Kant  has  grouped  them.2 

(1)  Categories  of  Quantity ,3  — According  to  their  quantity, 
Kant  says,  propositions  are  classed  as  universal,  particular,  or 
singular;  and  corresponding  with  these  are  the  categories  of  unity, 
plurality,  and  totality.  Obviously  these  are  categories  in  the 
sense  that  they  are  all  known  through  thinking,  not  through  sensa- 
tion. Kant  discusses  in  detail  only  one  of  these  categories,  total- 
ity. Evidently,  totality  is  a known  relation  of  objects  or  of  parts 
of  objects  to  each  other,  and  comes  thus  under  the  head  of  what 
have  been  called  the  scientific  categories.  The  essential  features 
of  Kant’s  teaching,  that  every  object  is  known  as  totality  of  its 
qualities,  has  been  given  in  Chapter  7. 4 Here  it  need  only  be 
added  that  in  the  course  of  this  discussion  of  spatial  totality  Kant 
effectively  corrects  the  space  doctrine  of  the  JEsthetic.  For  he 
describes  the  ‘ category  ’ of  totality  virtually  in  those  terms  which 
he  earlier  applied  to  the  so-called  ‘form’  of  space.  This  shows 


1  This  table  (according  to  Kant)  is  as  follows  (A,  70;  B,  95;  W.,  48):  — 
Propositions  are  — 

1.  In  Quantity  3.  In  Relation 

Universal,  Categorical, 

Particular,  Hypothetical, 

Singular.  Disjunctive. 

2.  In  Quality  4.  In  Modality 

Affirmative,  Problematic, 

Negative,  Assertoric, 

Infinite.  Apodictic. 


For  a discussion  of  the  points  at  which  this  table  diverges  from  the  conventional 
one,  cf.  Caird,  op.  cit.,  I.,  pp.  339  seq. 

2 For  enumeration,  cf.  “Analytic,”  Bk.  I.,  Chapter  1,  §§  9,  10,  A,  70  seq.,  B, 
95  seq.,  W.,  48  seq.  For  discussion,  cf.  the  passages  cited  in  the  next  following 
footnotes. 

3 Discussed  in  the  “Axioms  of  Perception,”  A,  161  seq.;  B,  202;  W.,  92.  For 
another  formulation  of  the  same  doctrine,  cf.  the  “Synthesis  of  Apprehension,” 
in  the  so-called  Transcendental  Deduction  of  ed.  A (A,  98). 

4 Cf.  supra,  pp.  200  seq. 


528 


Immanuel  Kant 


that  he  might  advantageously  have  abandoned  his  teaching  that 
space  is  perceptual  and  might  thus  have  regarded  the  ordering 
factor  of  our  space-consciousness  as  a category.1 2 

(2)  Categories  0 / Quality ? — Propositions,  Kant  teaches,  have 
three  distinctions  of  quality:  they  are  affirmative,  negative,  or 
‘infinite.’3  Corresponding  with  these  distinctions  he  recognizes 
three  categories  of  quality : reality,  negation,  and  limitation.  The 
last-named  category  need  not  be  discussed,  since  Kant  says  nothing 
of  it  beyond  the  bare  definition.4  The  teaching  about  reality  and 
negation  may  be  paraphrased  somewhat  as  follows:  In  making 
an  affirmation,  as  ‘The  starfish  has  a nervous  system,’  I am  con- 
ceiving something  as  real;  and  conversely  in  a negation,  as  ‘The 
paramecium  does  not  avoid  obstacles,’  I am  denying  reality.  Evi- 
dently reality  and  its  companion  categories  are  unsensational  ways 
of  thinking  and  aspects  of  experience.  Evidently,  also,  they  are 
‘ epistemological  ’ categories.  The  main  feature  of  Kant’s  teach- 
ing about  them  is  his  reiterated  assertion  that  only  the  sensational 
is  real,  and  that  the  unsensational  is  unreal.  The  ‘principle’  of 
the  categories  of  quality  is,  he  says,  the  following: 5 — “In  all  phe- 
nomena the  real  which  is  an  object  of  sensation  has  degree.”  6 7 

(3)  Categories  oj  Relation.1  — Besides  having  quality  and  quan- 
tity, propositions  have  three  relations  — as  Kant  rather  artificially 
calls  them;  they  are  categorical,  hypothetical,  and  disjunctive. 
Corresponding,  as  he  says,  with  these  distinctions,  Kant  recognizes 
three  categories  of  relation  — substance,  causality,  and  reci- 
procity — which  he  discusses,  one  by  one,  under  three  separate 

1 Not  merely  this  category  of  totality  but  the  category  of  reciprocal  determina- 
tion (cf.  p.  531)  has  to  do  with  space. 

For  reference  to  a less  important  way  in  which  the  “ Esthetic  ” teaching  differs 
from  that  of  the  “Axiom  of  Perception,”  cf.  p.  520,  n. 

2 Discussed  in  the  Anticipations  oj  Sense-perception , A,  166;  B,  208  ; W.,  96. 

3 Only  the  first  two  are  distinctions  ordinarily  admitted.  The  infinite  proposition 
differs  from  the  negative  in  that  its  negation  is  fused  with  its  predicate.  Kant’s 
examples  are  : of  a negative  proposition,  ‘ the  soul  is  not  mortal  ’ ; of  an  infinite 
proposition,  ‘ the  soul  is  not-mortal.’ 

4 For  a different  view,  cf.  Caird,  op.  cit.,  I.,  pp.  341  seq. 

6 Kant  mixes  with  this  teaching  of  the  reality  of  the  sensational  a radically  differ- 
ent doctrine  of  a ‘ real’  phenomenon  which  corresponds  with  sensation.  Cf.  A, 
173-176  : B,  217  ; W.,  100.  For  the  exposition  of  the  ‘real’  in  this  sense,  cf. 
pp.  231  seq. 

6 B,  207 ; W.,  96.  Degree  is  here  conceived  as  midway  between  the  real  and 
negation,  that  is  complete  absence  of  sensation.  It  has  been  pointed  out  in 
Chapter  7 that  by  this  incidental  mention  of  degree  Kant  really  suggests  a group  of 
categories  which  he  does  not  explicitly  discuss  — scientific  categories  of  comparison. 

7 For  discussion,  cf.  A,  176  seq.;  B,  218  seq.;  W.,  101  seq. 


Kant's  Doctrine  of  the  Categories  529 


'principles’:  the  first,  second,  and  third  of  the  “Analogies  of  Ex- 
perience.” To  Kant’s  discussion  of  the  first  of  these  categories,  we 
shall  at  once  turn,  disregarding  the  disputed  but  comparatively  un- 
essential question  of  the  actual  correspondence  of  the  categories  with 
the  classes  of  propositions  from  which  he  purports  to  derive  them. 

In  discussing  (a)  the  category  0}  substance,1  Kant  gives  to 
‘substance’  two  allied  meanings  — ‘permanence’  ( Beharrlich - 
keit),  and  ‘the  permanent’  ( das  Beharrliche).  Regarded  in  the 
former  way,  substance,  or  permanence,  is  evidently  a category, 
that  is,  an  unsensational  aspect  of  objects-as-thought.  But  Kant 
more  often  means  by  substance  not  ‘permanence’  but  ‘the  perma- 
nent.’ He  seems  to  have  in  mind  what  corresponds  to  the  subject 
of  a categorical  proposition  — substance  which  stands  to  its  attri- 
butes in  the  relation  of  subject  to  predicates.  In  this  sense,  as 
Kant  says,  “the  category  stands  under  the  head  of  relation  more  as 
condition  of  relation  than  as  itself  a relation.”  For  by  substance, 
regarded  as  the  permanent,  is  meant  that  which  is  presupposed  by 
all  change.  And  the  argument  for  the  existence  of  this  ‘perma- 
nent ’ is  simply  the  following : so  surely  as  there  is  change  there 
must  be  something  which  changes  — a ‘permanent,’  which  under- 
goes transformations. 

Granting  this  to  be  Kant’s  conception  of  substance  the  ques- 
tion at  once  arises,  what  concretely  does  he  mean  by  substance 
thus  conceived  as  the  permanent-required-by-change?  To  this 
question  Kant  gives  no  satisfying  answer.2  Most  of  the  first 
Analogy  is  occupied  by  a seeming  effort  to  identify  substance  with 
time,  of  which  Kant  says,  “ time  in  which  all  change  of  phenomena 
must  be  thought  to  be  [is  itself]  permanent  and  does  not  change.” 
With  this  misleading  conception  of  time  as  essentially  perma- 
nent Kant  was,  however,  rightly  dissatisfied,3  for  he  also  speaks  of 
‘the  permanent’  as  ‘in  time’;  and  he  even  suggests  the  identi- 
fication of  ‘the  permanent’  writh  space,  by  a note  written  in  the 
margin  of  his  own  copy  of  the  first  edition  of  the  “ Kritik.”  4 This 

1 For  discussion,  cf.  A,  182  seq.;  B,  224  seq.  ; W.,  106  seq. 

2 A,  187  seq.;  B,  230-231;  W.,  108  seq. 

3 B.  225.  It  is  very  possible  that  Kant  was  first  misled  by  the  spatial  image 
roused  by  Newton’s  definition  of  absolute  time  : Tempus  absolutum,  verum 
et  mathematicum,  in  se  et  natura  sua  sine  relatione  ad  externum  quodvis,  aequa- 
biliter  fluit.  This  may  very  likely  have  suggested  to  Kant  the  hypothesis  that 
substance,  the  permanent,  is  time  — as  distinct  from  events  in  time. 

4  Erdmann,  “ Nachtrage,”  LXXX. 


2 M 


530 


Immanuel  Kant 


note  is  as  follows:  “Here  the  proof  must  be  so  carried  through  as 
to  refer  only  to  substances  as  phenomena  of  our  external  senses, 
consequently  [the  proof  must  be]  from  space,  for  space  and  its 
determinations  exist  in  all  time.”  Kant  suggested  this  hypothesis 
in  a later  section  of  the  “Kritik,”  but  he  never  rewrote  the  first 
Analogy  in  accordance  with  it.  1 The  theory,  though  far  more  plaus- 
ible than  the  identification  of  substance  with  time,  is  merely  sug- 
gested, not  formally  worked  out  by  Kant;  and  it  overlooks  the 
sensational  nature  of  space,  which  should  effectually  prevent  its 
being  regarded  as  mere  category  or  as  ‘the  permanent.’ 

We  are  forced  to  the  conclusion  that  Kant,  though  he  teaches 
the  existence  of  a ‘permanent  ’ implied  by  the  facts  of  change, never 
unequivocally  defines  its  nature;  and  we  are  left  accordingly  with 
full  scope  for  hypothesis  about  it.  From  Kant’s  doctrine  of  the 
transcendental  self  the  logical  inference  is  surely  that  this  ‘per- 
manent’ is  none  other  than  the  self.  Kant,  however,  certainly 
does  not  adopt  this  view.  Indeed,  he  expressly  opposes  it  in  the 
“Refutation  of  Idealism”  which  he  added  to  the  second  edition  of 
the  “Kritik.”  Temporal  determination,  he  there  teaches,  pre- 
supposes somewhat  which  is  permanent,  but  this  permanent  may 
not  be  conceived  as  self,  or  I,  for  the  permanent,  or  transcendental, 
self  — so  Kant  always  has  taught  — is  unknown.2  Therefore, 
he  concludes,  the  permanent  presupposed  in  temporal  determina- 
tion must  be  a ‘thing  outside  me.’  Thus  conceived,  the  perma- 
nent, or  substance,  is  perhaps  neither  more  nor  less  than  physical 
nature,  the  sum  total  of  external  phenomena.  For  though, 
strictly  speaking,  it  is  true  that  no  sum  of  phenomena  has  per- 
manence, still  nature,  if  regarded  as  a whole  (though  of  con- 
stantly shifting  content),  and  — in  particular  — Nature  as  the 
object  of  the  transcendental,  more-than-individual  self,  may  be 
conceived  as  possessing  a certain  sort  of  permanence  as  compared 
with  any  particular  phenomenon. 

However  interpreted,  substance  as  ‘the  permanent’  evidently  is 
not  a category  coordinate  with  the  others.  Paraphrasing  Kant,  we 
may  say  that  it  is  the  condition  of  the  categories,  that  to  which  the 
categories  are  applied.  For,  while  a category  is,  in  Kant’s  view, 
a simple  way  of  thinking  or  a given  aspect  of  an  object  as  thought, 
substance,  if  conceived  as  Nature,  would  include  a complete  sum 

» B,  292;  W.,  127.  2 Cf.  Erdmann,  “ Nachtrige LXXV. 


Kant's  Doctrine  of  the  Categories  531 


or  system  of  categories.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  substance  were 
conceived  as  I,  it  would  of  course  be  the  subject  of  the  cate- 
gories. 

As  second  among  the  categories  of  relation,  Kant  discusses,  ( b ) 
the  category  of  causality.  This  has  been  considered  in  such  de- 
tail 1 that  no  comment  need  be  made  upon  it  beyond  pointing  out 
that  it  is  clearly  (like  totality)  a ‘scientific’  category  of  relation. 

(c)  The  category  of  reciprocal  determination 2 is  really  con- 
ceived by  Kant  in  a twofold  fashion.  Sometimes  he  seems  to 
mean  by  the  term  merely  ‘mutual  causality,’  that  is,  the  double 
causal  connection  between  two  coexisting  bodies.  Again,  how- 
ever, he  seems  to  refer  to  the  necessary  but  reversible  relation 
between  spatial  positions  — one  of  the  relations  nowadays  widely 
discussed  under  the  name  of  forms  of  order.  The  important  addi- 
tion to  the  category-doctrine  made  — or  better,  implied  — in  the 
second  of  these  teachings  has  been  summarized  and  amplified  in 
Chapter  7 3 On  the  other  hand,  Kant’s  introduction  of  considera- 
tions relative  to  mutual  causality  obscures  the  fact  that  the  causality 
involved  is  of  no  new  sort.4  For  evidently  mutual  causality  be- 
tween two  objects  is  the  corresponding  relation  of  their  succeeding 
states.  Change  No.  2 in  the  moon’s  history  is  both  the  effect  of 
change  No.  1 and  the  cause  of  change  No.  3 in  the  earth’s  history; 
and  conversely  change  No.  2 in  the  earth’s  history  is  both  the  effect 
of  change  No.  1 and  the  cause  of  change  No.  3 in  the  moon’s  his- 
tory. The  relation  is  simply  represented  thus : — 

Moon’s  states  Earth’s  states 


3- 


(4)  The  Categories  0}  Modality ,5 — Propositions,  and  therefore 
judgments,  have  three  modalities : they  are  problematic,  assertoric, 

1 Cf.  supra,  Chapter  7,  p.  210. 

2 For  discussion,  cf.  A,  211;  B,  256;  W.,  118. 

3 Cf.  p.  217. 

4 Kant  emphasizes  also  the  here  irrelevant  teaching  that  observed  or  assumed 
mutual  causality  between  objects  may  be  regarded  as  an  argument  for  their  co- 
existence. (A,  211;  B,  158;  W.,  118.) 

6 Discussed  under  the  heading,  “Postulates  of  Empirical  Thought,”  A,  218 
seq.;  B,  265  seq.;  W.,  122  seq. 


532 


Immanuel  Kant 


or  apodictic.1  Corresponding  with  these  distinctions,  Kant  enu- 
merates as  categories  of  modality:  (i)  possibility,  or  conformity 
with  the  formal  conditions  of  experience;  (2)  actuality,  or  con- 
formity with  the  material  conditions  of  experience ; and  (3)  neces- 
sity, or  connection  with  the  real.  These  are  evidently  what  I have 
called  epistemological,  or  metaphysical,  categories  - — that  is, 
predications  about  reality.  No  one  will  deny  that  the  conscious- 
ness of  possibility,  actuality,  or  necessity  is  as  such  unsensational 
— in  other  words,  that  these  are  in  the  general  sense  categories; 
and  the  interest  of  Kant’s  discussion  centres,  therefore,  in  his 
consideration  of  the  proper  application  of  these  categories.  In 
concrete  terms,  Kant  here  discusses  the  question : what  is  possible, 
actual,  or  necessary  ? 

To  begin  with  the  most  significant  of  these  categories  as  dis- 
cussed by  Kant,  it  is  plain  that  by  ‘actual’  he  means  the  actual- 
for-us,  not  the  ‘ultimately  real’;  and  that  he  unequivocally  teaches 
that  actuality  is  rightly  attributed  to  sensational  phenomena  only. 
According  to  this  view,  actuality  is,  however,  a mere  synonym  for  a 
category  already  discussed  by  Kant  — that  of  ‘ reality.’  2 And  the 
doctrine  that  only  the  sensational  is  real  is  simply  another  affirma- 
tion of  Kant’s  theory  of  the  limits  of  knowledge : the  doctrine  that 
transcendental  self,  God,  ultimate  realities  of  every  sort,  because 
unsensational,  are,  therefore,  unknown.  As  has  been  noticed, 
this  involves  a tacit  denial  of  the  force  of  his  own  teaching  that 
relations,  no  less  than  sensations,  belong  to  known  reality. 

Kant’s  treatment  of  ‘possibility’  and  ‘necessity’  cannot  lay 
claim  to  completeness.  His  treatment  of  ‘the  possible’  is  sum- 
marized in  the  statement  that  conceptions  are  merely  possible, 
and  this  is  obviously  a mere  restatement  of  the  doctrine  that  only 
the  sensational  can  be  actual.3  Similarly  his  definition  of  the  neces- 

1 Observe  that  these  distinctions  apply  to  judgments  conceived  as  affirmations 
and  not  with  any  force  to  judgments  conceived  as  unifications.  For  discussion  of 
the  distinction,  cf.  the  writer’s  “An  Introduction  to  Psychology,”  pp.  239-240, 
with  citations. 

2 Cf.  supra,  p.  528. 

3 This  teaching  is  difficult  of  interpretation  by  reason  of  the  ambiguity  of  the 
term  ‘concept.’  If  by  ‘concept’  Kant  means  category,  or  pure  concept,  then  the 
doctrine  is  in  flat  opposition  to  his  reiterated  teaching  that  the  categories  are  essen- 
tial factors  of  objects  of  knowledge.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  the  term  be  used  in  the 
sense  of  ‘empirical  concept’  or  ‘image’  ■ — then  this  doctrine  reduces  to  the  obvious 
but,  for  Kant’s  purposes,  unimportant  observation  that  the  ‘possible’  is  the  ‘imag- 
ined’ as  distinct  from  the  ‘perceived.’ 


Kant's  Doctrine  of  the  Categories  533 

sary,  as  that  which  is  inferred  from  the  actual,  harks  back  to  the 
sensational  view  of  knowledge.  It  is  perfectly  evident  that  Kant 
does  not  here  pretend  to  discuss  all  the  senses  of  the  term  necessary. 

Midway  in  the  discussion  of  actuality,  the  second  edition  inter- 
poses certain  difficult  paragraphs  making  up  the  “Refutation  of 
Idealism.”  1 The  teaching  of  this  section  has  already  been  con- 
sidered: first,  in  the  discussion  of  the  transcendental  self’s 
object;2  and  second,  in  the  comment  on  the  category  of  substance.3 
This  teaching  is,  in  brief,  the  following:  “The  . . . empirically 
determined  consciousness  of  my  own  existence  proves  the  existence 
of  objects  in  space  outside  me.”  For  (1)  I am  empirically  con- 
scious of  my  existence  as  determined  in  time;  and  (2)  temporal 
determination  presupposes  something  permanent.  This  perma- 
nent must  be,  Kant  insists,  a thing-outside-me.  The  obvious  ob- 
jection to  this  argument  has  already  been  noticed:  on  Kant’s 
own  showing  the  permanent  being,  implied  by  the  succeeding  ideas 
which  make  up  my  empirical  self,  is  the  permanent  or  transcen- 
dental self,  and  not  primarily  any  object  at  all.  Kant  sets  aside 
the  objection  on  the  ground  of  his  unfortunate  persuasion  that  we 
have  no  knowledge  of  such  a self.4  Evidently  he  fails  to  meet 
the  difficulty,  and  leaves  the  things-outside-me  with  their  existence 
unproved.  None  the  less,  as  is  elsewhere  indicated,  the  exist- 
ence of  these  objects  is  a corollary  of  his  doctrine  of  the  self.5 

This  discussion  of  Kant’s  account  of  the  categories  may  be  sum- 
marized as  follows:  As  against  Hume,  Kant  has  shown  conclu- 
sively that  we  are  unsensationally  conscious.  He  has  enumerated 
and  grouped  these  unsensational  forms  of  consciousness  on  an 
artificial  principle,  by  supposing  that  there  are  as  many  of  them 
as  there  are  kinds  of  proposition.  He  has  thus  considered  the 
categories  of  quantity : singleness,  plurality,  and  totality ; the  cate- 
gories of  quality : reality,  negation,  and  limitation ; the  categories 
of  relation:  substantiality,  causality,  and  reciprocity;  and  the 
categories  of  modality:  possibility,  actuality,  and  necessity.  A 
critical  study  of  these  categories  has  revealed,  in  the  first  place, 

1 B,  274  seq.  2 Cf.  supra,  pp.  231  seq. 

3 Cf.  supra,  p.  530.  4 Cf.  supra,  pp.  241  seq. 

5 For  an  illuminating  discussion  of  the  ‘ ‘ Refutation  of  Idealism,”  and  the  kindred 
teaching  of  the  “Fourth  Paralogism”  of  ed.  A,  cf.  Vaihinger  in  “Strassburger  Ab- 
handlungen,”  pp.  85  seq.  Vaihinger  very  clearly  exposes  the  inconsistencies  of 
Kant’s  different  attitudes  to  idealism,  and  his  misapprehensions  of  preceding 
idealists. 


534 


Immanuel  Kant 


several  instances  in  which  the  category  does  not  conform  to  the  cor- 
relative proposition.  Among  the  categories  themselves,  it  has 
distinguished  between  (i)  those  which  are  objects  of  scientific 
thinking,  relations  between  known  objects  or  parts  of  these  ob- 
jects— notably  the  categories  of  totality,  degree,  and  causality; 
and  (2)  categories  which  are  objects  of  metaphysical  judgment, 
or  affirmation,  the  categories  of  modality  and  the  parallel  cate- 
gories of  quality.  The  so-called  category  of  substance  has  turned 
out  to  be  more  ultimate  than  any  category  — a ground  of  relation, 
not  itself  a relation. 

When  these  deductions  and  amendments  have  been  made,  the 
table  of  the  categories  assumes  something  the  following  shape : 1 

Categories 

(Unsensational  Experiences;  i.e.  Important 
Ways  of  Thinking  and  Factors  of  Objects 
as  Thought) 

Epistemological  Categories : — Scientific  Categories : — 

Reality  or  Actuality  (a)  Of  comparison : (6)  Of  connection : 

Negation  Degree  Totality 

Possibility  Causality 

Reciprocity  or 
Order 

THE  KANTIANS 

I.  Writers  who  expound  and  develop  Kant’s  Teaching 

Karl  Leonhard  Reinhold,  1758-1825.  (Professor  in  Jena  and  in  Kiel.) 

Reinhold  summarizes  Kant’s  teaching,  and  also  seeks  to  improve 
on  it  by  deriving  a posteriori  and  a priori  knowledge  from  a com- 
mon ‘principle  of  consciousness.’ 

Chief  Philosophical  Works:  — 

1786.  “Briefe  fiber  die  kantische  Philosophie,”  first  printed  in  Wieland’s 
Deutscher  Merkur : published  Leipzig,  1790-92. 

1789.  “Versuch  einer  neuen  Theorie  des  menschlichen  Vorstellungsver- 
mogens,”  Prag  and  Jena. 

1791.  “ Uber  das  Fundament  das  philosophischen  Wissens.,”  Jena. 

J.  C.  Friedrich  von  Schiller  (1759-1805). 

Schiller  develops  Kant’s  aesthetic  teaching  by  the  definition  of 
beauty  as  * freedom  in  phenomenal  appearance  ’ ; and  supple- 
ments Kant’s  ethical  doctrine  by  the  teaching  that  the  aesthetic 
state,  as  disinterested,  makes  the  moral  life  possible.  He  con- 

1 This  sort  of  reduction  of  Kant’s  categories  is  no  novelty.  Schopenhauer,  as 
is  well  known,  attempted  to  reduce  them  to  the  single  Law  of  Sufficient  Reason, 
or  Category  of  Connection  (cf.  supra,  pp.  215  and  345);  and  a modern  critic, 
Paulsen,  retains  only  the  categories  of  substance  and  causality. 


The  Kantians  535 

ceives  the  ‘ beautiful  soul  (schone  Seele)  ’ as  that  which  has 
transcended  the  conflict  between  impulse  and  duty. 

Chief  Philosophical  Works:  — 

1793.  “Uber  Anmuth  und  Wurde”  (published  in  ‘Thalia’). 

1795.  “Briefe  fiber  aesthetische  Erziehung  des  Menschen.”  (published  in 
Horen). 

1 795-96.  “ Uber  naive  und  sentimentalische  Dichtung,”  ibid. 

“ Philosophische  Schriften”  (Auswahl),  Leipzig,  1896. 

“Essays  aesthetical  and  philosophical”  (transl.),  Lond.,  1875,  ’90.  (Cf.  the 
philosophical  poems:  “Die  Ktinstler,”  “ Ideal  und  Leben,”  etc.) 
Johann  Friedrich  Herbart  (1776-1841).  (Professor  in  Konigsberg  and 
Gottingen.) 

Herbart’s  system  is  from  one  point  of  view  a development  of 
Kant’s  thing-in-itself  doctrine.  It  is  formulated  in  specific  opposi- 
tion to  Hegel’s  monistic  idealism.  Herbart  teaches  that  there  ex- 
ists a plurality  of  real  beings  {Reale)  tending  to  preserve  themselves 
and  manifested  in  phenomenal  things.  Herbart’s  philosophy  thus 
becomes  a sort  of  mechanics  of  substances  in  their  interrelations. 
He  includes  ‘souls’  among  his  real  substances  and  conceives  ideas 
as  the  ‘ self-preservations  ’ of  souls. 

Chief  Philosophical  and  Psychological  Works:  — 

1806.  “ Hauptpunkte  der  Metaphysik,”  Gottingen. 

1813.  “ Lehrbuch  zur  Einleitung  in  die  Philosophic,”  Konigsberg. 

1816.  “Lehrbuch  zur  Psychologie,”  Konigsberg  u.  Leipzig. 

1824-25.  “Psychologie  als  Wissenschaft,  neu  gegriindet  auf  Erfahrung, 
Metaphysik  und  Mathematik,”  Konigsberg. 

1828-29.  “ Allgemeine  Metaphysik,  nebst  den  Aufangen  der  philosophische n 
Naturlehre,”  ibid. 

Friedrich  D.  E.  Schleiermacher  (1768-1834).  (Preacher,  and  professor 
at  Berlin.) 

Schleiermacher  bases  an  emotional  mysticism,  allied  also  to 
Spinoza’s  monistic  teaching,  on  the  thing-in-itself  doctrine  of 
Kant. 

Chief  Philosophical  Works:  — 

1799.  “Uber  die  Religion,”  Berlin. 

1800.  “Monologen.” 

1803.  “Grundlinien  einer  Kritik  der  bisherigen  Sittenlehre.” 

1841.  (Posthumous)  “Grundriss  der  philosophische n Ethik.” 

“ Sammtliche  Werke,”  Abth.  III.,  “ Philosophic,”  9 vols.,  Berl.,  1834-64. 

II.  Opponents  of  Kant 

Friedrich  Heinrich  Jacobi  (1743-1819). 

Jacobi  holds  that  knowledge  and  faith  are  in  necessary  opposition. 
He  therefore  opposes  Kant’s  doctrine  that  theoretical  reason  leaves 
scope  for  practical  reason ; and  himself  insists  upon  the  primacy 
of  faith. 


536  The  Post- Kantian  Monistic  Idealists 


Chief  Philosophical  Works  : — 

1785.  “ Uber  die  Lehre  des  Spinoza  in  Briefen  an  . . . Moses  Mendelssohn.’1 
1787.  “David  Hume  liber  den  Glauben,  oder  Idealismus  u.  Realismus.” 
1811.  “Von  den  gottlichen  Dingen  und  ihrer  Offenbarung.”  (An  antago- 
nistic criticism  of  Schelling.) 

“ Werke,”  6 vols.,  Leipzig,  1812-20. 

Gottlieb  Ernst  Schulze  (1761-1833). 

Schulze  opposes  Kantianism,  especially  in  the  form  which  Rein- 
hold gives  to  it,  on  the  ground  that  it  involves  the  essential  con- 
tradiction of  limiting  knowledge  to  experience,  and  yet  at  the  same 
time  postulating  realities  beyond  experience. 

Chief  Philosophical  Works  : — 

1792.  “ ASnesidemus,”  Helmst. 

1801.  “Kritik  der  theoretischen  Philosophic,”  11  vols.,  Hamburg. 

Other  critics  of  Kant  are  J.  G.  Hamann,  Herder,  cited  supra, 
p.  506;  and  J.  G.  von  Fries  who  develops  a system  really  mid- 
way between  that  of  Kant  and  that  of  the  ‘ common-sense  ’ school. 

F.  THE  POST-KANTIAN  MONISTIC  IDEALISTS 

JOHANN  GOTTLIEB  FICHTE  (1762-1814) 

I.  Life 

The  story  of  the  life  of  Fichte  may  be  briefly  told,  for  it  has 
already  been  suggested)  in  the  chapter  on  his  philosophy.  He 
was  born,  in  Saxon  Lusatia,  in  1762,  the  son  of  a poor  weaver.  A 
nobleman  of  the  neighborhood,  attracted  by  the  boy’s  precocity, 
undertook  his  education,  but  died  before  Fichte  finished  his 
university  course.  For  years,  Fichte  followed  the  difficult  career 
of  a family  tutor,  — a life  for  which  his  militant  sense  of  duty  seems 
to  have  made  him  singularly  unfitted.  When  we  hear,  for  example, 
of  his  habit  of  reading  weekly  to  his  employers  a list  of  the  faults 
which  they  had  committed  in  the  government  of  their  children,  we 
are  not  surprised  to  know  that  he  seldom  held  a situation  for  a long 
time.  To  his  employment  as  a tutor  he  none  the  less  owed  the 
greatest  happiness  of  his  life,  for  it  brought  him  in  1788  to  Zurich, 
and  there  he  met  and  loved  Johanna  Rahn,  a niece  of  the  poet  Klop- 
stock.  Johanna  was  herself  a strenuous-souled  young  person, 
and  from  first  to  last  the  union  between  the  two  was  singularly 
strong  and  beautiful.  The  inexorable  need  of  money  drove  Fichte 
to  Leipzig,  and  there,  in  order  to  read  with  a pupil  Kant’s  “Kritik 


Johann  Gottlieb  Fichte 


537 


of  Practical  Reason,”  he  undertook  in  1790  that  study  which 
revolutionized  his  whole  life.  A visit  in  1791  to  Konigsberg 
chilled  Fichte’s  hopes  of  personal  friendship  and  personal  help 
from  Kant.  Yet,  indirectly,  Kant  made  Fichte’s  fortune,  for 
Fichte’s  first  little  book,  the  “Kritik  aller  Offenbarung,”  was 
published  anonymously  and  attributed  to  Kant.  Kant’s  denial 
of  the  authorship  was  accompanied  by  words  of  commendation 
which  favorably  introduced  the  younger  writer. 

Fichte  was  married  in  1793 ; and  in  1794  was  called  to  the  Uni- 
versity of  Jena  where  he  gained  an  immediate  success.  He  threw 
himself  with  ardor  into  all  the  phases  of  university  life,  and  at 
once  became  very  popular.  His  philosophical  work  of  this 
period  — the  first  “Grundlage  der  Wissenschaftslehre”  is  so  diffi- 
cult and  technical  a book  that  one  is  at  a loss  to  understand  why 
Fichte’s  lecture  room  was  thronged.  Yet  his  enthusiasm  must  have 
inflamed  even  the  phases  of  the  “Unabhangige  Thatigkeit”  with 
interest;  and  besides  these  technical  lectures  he  gave  others  on  the 
history  of  philosophy  and  on  ethical  problems.  Whatever  his 
method,  Fichte  gained  so  strong  a hold  on  the  confidence  of  the 
students  at  Jena  that  he  had  almost  persuaded  them  to  abandon 
their  secret  societies.  The  failure  of  this  effort  seems  to  have  been 
due  to  Fichte’s  over-conscientiousness.  He  questioned  his  own 
right  to  conduct  personally  the  negotiations  with  the  students,  and 
gained  their  undeserved  distrust  by  proposing  to  submit  the  matter 
to  the  university  authorities.  An  incident  of  another  sort  brought 
to  an  end,  in  1799,  Fichte’s  Jena  career.  He  published  in  the 
philosophical  journal,  of  which  he  was  an  editor,  a paper  which  was 
criticised  for  its  lack  of  conformity  to  the  orthodox  theology  of  the 
day.  The  university  council  would  have  condoned  the  heresy 
but  could  not  overlook  Fichte’s  open  and  straightforward  defence 
of  his  position.  Accordingly,  under  Goethe’s  leadership,  they 
dismissed  Fichte  from  his  chair. 

Fichte’s  removal  from  Jena  to  Berlin  quite  upset  the  regular 
development  of  his  system.  For  several  years  he  had  no  academic 
affiliations  but  grew  better  and  better  known  by  his  popular  lec- 
tures to  Berlin  audiences.  Some  of  these  were  expositions  of  his 
system,  in  which  he  laid  stress  on  its  ethical  and  religious  im- 
plications. Even  stronger  in  their  influence  were  his  lectures  on 
subjects  of  political  and  social  interest:  his  arraignment  of  the 


538  The  Post- Kantian  Monistic  Idealists 


frivolity  and  the  indifference  of  the  time  in  “Characteristics  of  the 
Present  Age,”  and  his  summons  to  a patriotic  revival  in  the  “Ad- 
dresses to  the  German  People.”  When,  in  1810,  the  University 
of  Berlin  was  founded  he  was  called  to  the  chair  of  philosophy. 
But  his  second  academic  career  was  of  short  duration.  In  1812 
the  call  to  arms  stirred  all  Prussia.  Fichte,  with  difficulty  dis- 
suaded from  undertaking  service  in  the  army,  remained  in 
Berlin  exhorting  and  inspiring  the  young  men  in  camp.  His 
wife,  who  had  shared  all  the  interests  of  his  life,  became  a nurse 
in  the  soldier  hospitals.  In  January,  1814,  she  fell  ill  with  fever, 
contracted  during  her  service.  She  recovered  — but  Fichte  him- 
self, who  had  nursed  her  devotedly,  died  of  the  same  disease  on  the 
twenty-seventh  of  January,  1814. 

II.  Bibliography 

a.  Chiej  Works 

(For  completer  list,  see  Appendix  of  Thompson’s  book  cited  below.  Each 
work  is  referred  to  the  volume  of  the  “ Werke”  or  “Nachgelassene  Werke” 
to  which  it  belongs.  For  list  of  translations,  see  below.) 

1792.  “Versuch  einer  Kritik  aller  Offenbarung,”  W.,  V.,  Kirchmann  edi- 
tion, 1871. 

1794.  “Grundlage  der  gesammten  Wissenschlaftslehre,”  W.,  I.  Transl.  by 

Kroeger  as  “The  Science  of  Knowledge.”  (The  earliest  and 
most  influential  of  all  Fichte’s  works  on  technical  philosophy. 
For  summary,  see  pp.  318  seq.  of  this  book.) 

1795.  “Grundriss  des  Eigentiimlichen  der  Wissenschaftslehre,”  W.,  I. 

Transl.  by  Kroeger. 

1796.  “Grundlage  des  Naturrechts.”  W.,  III.  Transl.  by  Kroeger  as 

“The  Science  of  Rights.” 

(The  application  of  Fichte’s  doctrine  to  principles  of  govern- 
ment. Part  I.  deals  with  the  conception  of  rights;  Part  II.  with 
state  organization  and  with  municipal  law.) 

1798.  “Das  System  der  Sittenlehre,”  W.,  IV. 

(Fichte’s  theory  of  ethics  and  doctrine  of  duty.) 

1800.  “Die  Bestimmung  des  Menschen,”  W.,II.  Transl.  by  Smith  as  “The 

Vocation  of  Man.” 

(The  best  of  the  popular  expositions  of  Fichte’s  doctrine.  For 
summary,  see  pp.  310  seq.  of  this  book.) 

1801.  “Darstellung  der  Wissenschaftslehre,”  W.,  II. 

(Often  regarded  as  a bridge  between  Fichte’s  earlier  and  later 
_ teaching.  Posthumously  published.) 

1805.  “Uber  das  Wesen  des  Gelehrten,”  W.,  VI.  Transl.  by  Smith  as  “The 
Nature  of  the  Scholar.” 


Johann  Gottlieb  Fichte 


539 


1806.  “Grundziige  des  gegenwartigen  Zeitalters,”  W.,  VII.  Transl.  by 
Smith  as  “Characteristics  of  the  Present  Age.”  (A  passionate 
arraignment  of  the  frivolities  and  lack  of  seriousness  of  the  period.) 

1806.  “Die  Anweisung  zum  seeligen  Leben,”  W.,V.  Transl.  by  Smith  as 
“The  Way  to  a Blessed  Life.” 

(From  the  standpoint  of  Fichte’s  doctrine  that  the  ultimate  real- 
ity is  the  absolute  though  impersonal  self  — here  called  Being, 
Life,  and  God  — the  way  to  a blessed  life  is  shown  to  be  man’s 
surrender  of  ‘his  personal  individual  . . , independence’  and 
his  partaking  of  ‘ the  only  true  being,  the  divine.’  For  comment, 
cf.  pp.  327,  329  above.) 

1807-08.  “ Reden  an  die  deutsche  Nation.”  W.,  VII. 

(The  patriotic  addresses  by  which  Fichte  is  best  remembered  in 
Germany:  a call  to  rise  against  French  usurpation  and  a cour- 
ageous reminder  of  the  great  qualities  of  German  character.) 

1810-11.  “Die  Thatsachen  des  Bewusstseyns,”  W.,  II.,  pp.  535-691. 

(One  of  the  best  of  Fichte’s  many  expositions  of  his  doctrine, 
relatively  brief  yet  complete : The  fact  of  consciousness  which 
is  shown  to  presuppose  all  truth  is  my  awareness  of  other  people 
besides  myself.) 

1812.  “Die  Wissenschaftslehre,”  Nachgelassene  W.,  II.,  315-492. 

(One  of  the  most  satisfactory  single  works  for  advanced  readers.) 

b.  Editions  and  Translations 

“Werke,”  ed.  by  I.  H.  Fichte,  8 vols.  Berlin,  1845. 

(Volumes  including  mainly  works  published  during  Fichte’s  lifetime.) 

“Nachgelassene  Werke,”  ed.  by  I.  H.  Fichte,  3 vols.,  Bonn,  1834-35. 

“The  Science  of  Knowledge,”  transl.  by  A.  E.  Kroeger,  London,  1889.  Cf. 
also  Journal  of  Speculative  Philos.,  vol.  3.  (A  translation  of  the  “ Grund- 
lage”  of  1794,  abbreviated,  and  of  the  “Grundriss”  of  1795.) 

“The  Science  of  Rights,”  transl.  by  A.  E.  Kroeger,  London,  1889. 

“ Fichte’s  Popular  Works,”  transl.  by  William  Smith,  fourth  edition,  London, 
1889,  including:  — 

“The  Vocation  of  Man.” 

“The  Nature  of  the  Scholar.” 

“The  Characteristics  of  the  Present  Age.” 

“The  Way  to  a Blessed  Life.” 

“The  Vocation  of  Man,”  Chicago,  1906. 

(A  reprint,  with  introduction  by  E.  Ritchie,  of  Smith’s  translation.) 

c.  Biography.  {Cf.  also  the  works  named  under  d.) 

Fichte,  I.  H.  “Fichte’s  Leben  und  litterarischer  Briefwechsel,”  Sulzbach, 
1830. 

Fichte,  I.  H.,  and  Schelling,  K.  F.  A , “ Fichte’s  und  Schelling’s  philosophischet 
Briefwechsel,”  Stuttgart,  1856. 


540  The  Post-Kantian  Monistic  Idealists 


Smith,  William,  “ Memoir  of  Fichte,”  prefixed  to  his  edition  of  the  Populat 
Works.  Published  separately,  Boston,  1846. 

d.  Commentary  and  Criticism 

Everett,  C.  C.,  “Fichte’s  Science  of  Knowledge,”  Chicago,  1884. 

(A  critical  summary  of  the  first  Wissenschaftslehre,  prefaced  by  a bio- 
graphical chapter.) 

Thompson,  A.  B.,  “The  Unity  of  Fichte’s  Doctrine  of  Knowledge,”  Boston, 
1895. 

(A  valuable  summary  of  Fichte’s  doctrine,  supported  by  analyses  and 
citations  from  most  of  his  works.) 

Talbot,  E.  B.,  “The  Fundamental  Principle  of  Fichte’s  Philosophy,”  Cornell 
Studies,”  N.Y.,  1906. 

(A  scholarly  ‘study  of  Fichte’s  conception  of  the  ultimate  principle,’  as 
it  appears  under  different  names  in  his  writings.) 

Adamson,  R.,  “Fichte,”  London,  1881. 

Lowe,  J.  H.,  “Die  Philosophic  Fichte’s,”  Stuttgart,  1862. 

Zimmer,  F.,  “J.  G.  Fichte’s  Religionsphilosophie,”  Berlin,  1878. 

FRIEDRICH  WILHELM  JOSEPH  VON  SCHELLING  (1775-1854) 

I.  Life 

The  early  life  of  Schelling  reads  like  a romantic  episode  in  this 
chronicle  of  philosophers’  careers.  He  was  born  in  a little  town 
of  Wiirtemburg,  in  1775,  the  son  of  a chaplain  and  professor  in  a 
cloister-school,  near  Tubingen.  Like  Berkeley,  Schelling  made  his 
most  significant  contributions  to  philosophy  while  he  was  still  very 
young.  Throughout  his  youth  he  distinguished  himself  as  a stu- 
dent of  lively  intellect  and  astounding  precocity.  When  he  was 
fifteen  he  entered  the  University  of  Tubingen  and  during  the  next 
five  years  was  fellow  student  of  Hegel  and  Holderlin.  His  main 
interests  were  in  historical  and  speculative  problems.  He  read 
both  Kant  and  Fichte,  and  by  the  time  he  was  twenty  had  pub- 
lished philosophical  essays  of  distinct  merit  — notably  the  “Vom 
Ich  als  Princip  der  Philosophic.” 

During  the  two  years  following  the  university  period,  Schelling 
occupied  the  position  of  tutor  to  two  brothers  of  noble  family. 
Most  of  this  time  he  spent  at  Leipzig  where  he  heard  lectures  on 
medicine  and  on  physical  science,  and  where  he  published  the 
chief  works  of  his  nature  philosophy.  The  result  of  this  rich  pro- 
ductiveness was  a call  from  Jena  to  a professorship  in  philosophy. 


Friedrich  W.  J.  von  Sc  helling  541 

Here  Schelling  spent  the  years  from  1798  to  1803,  at  first  as  col- 
league of  Fichte,  later  in  the  companionship  of  Hegel.  The  years 
in  Jena  were  distinguished  by  successful  lectures,  by  notable  pub- 
lications, and  by  personal  relationships  of  vivid  significance.  With 
Goethe,  the  Schlegels,  and  the  foremost  of  the  German  romanticists 
he  lived  on  terms  of  close  comradeship.  The  brilliant  centre  of 
this  brilliant  circle  was  Caroline,  August  Schlegel’s  wife  — a 
woman  instinct  with  poetic  gift,  with  swift  thought,  with  unquench- 
able vivacity,  and  with  immeasurable  charm.  Between  herself 
and  Schelling  there  sprang  up  an  instantaneous  friendship  grounded 
in  perfect  congeniality  of  taste  and  temperament.  At  first  there 
was  thought  of  a marriage  between  Schelling  and  Caroline’s 
daughter,  Auguste  Bohmer;  but  Auguste  died  and  in  1803  Caro- 
line was  divorced  from  Schlegel  and  married  to  Schelling.  The 
arrangement  was  consummated,  it  appears,  without  a break  in  the 
friendship  between  Schlegel,  Schelling,  and  Caroline.  At  the 
same  time  Schelling  left  Jena  as  a result  of  certain  quarrels  due  to 
his  habit  of  free  and  rather  self-confident  criticism. 

The  three  years  following  he  spent  as  professor  in  Wurzburg. 
During  this  time  his  philosophy  took  its  turn  toward  mysticism 
and  he  himself  was  estranged  both  from  Fichte  and  from  Hegel 
through  their  criticism  of  his  system.  Hegel’s  charge  of  senti- 
mentality ( Schwdrmerei ) was  particularly  galling  to  him,  doubtless 
because  of  the  measure  of  its  truth.  In  1806  he  entered  on  his 
thirty-five  years’  sojourn  in  Munich.  This  was  a period  of  com- 
parative inactivity.  Caroline  died  in  1809,  and  three  years  later 
Schelling  was  married  to  a younger  friend  of  hers.  He  had  a happy 
family  life  and  was  highly  honored  in  Munich  where  he  held  an 
official  position  in  the  academy  of  sciences.  But  he  published  little ; 
and  though  his  occasional  lectures  — mainly  those  delivered  at 
Erlangen  in  1820-27  — were  full  of  criticism  of  Hegelian  doctrine, 
this  criticism  was  not  published  until  after  Hegel’s  death  in  1834. 
The  years  following  were  marked  in  Berlin  by  a sweeping  reaction 
against  Hegel’s  system,  due  largely  to  the  misconception  of  Hegeli- 
anism by  Strauss,  Feuerbach,  and  Baur,  in  their  criticism  of  the 
New  Testament.  The  anti-Hegelian  movement  was  headed  by  in- 
fluential statesmen  and  it  resulted  in  the  call  of  Schelling  to  Berlin 
to  the  position  of  privy  councillor  and  member  of  the  Academy, 
authorized  to  deliver  university  lectures.  Thus,  in  1841,  a man 


542  The  Post-Kantian  Monistic  Idealists 


of  nearly  seventy,  Schelling  once  more  entered  on  a career  of 
academic  activity.  The  remainder  of  his  life  till  his  death  in  1854 
was  spent  in  criticism  of  Hegelian  doctrine  and  in  elaboration  of 
his  own  system.  But  to  the  end  he  lacked  the  energy  or  the  indus- 
try to  bring  this  work  to  a logically  effective  conclusion.  In  truth 
he  was  cursed  as  well  as  blessed  by  his  romantic  temperament: 
he  possessed  the  insight  and  the  warmth  of  the  romanticist,  but 
also  his  egoism  and  his  restless  caprice. 

II.  Bibliography 

a.  Important  Works 

(The  references  are  to  the  volumes  of  the  “Werke.”) 

1 .  Earlier  Period 

1794.  “ Uber  die  Moglichkeit  einer  Form  der  Philosophic  iiberhaupt,”  W.,  L 

1795.  “Vom  Ich,”  W.,  I. 

2.  Nature  Philosophy 

1797.  “Ideen  zu  einer  Philosophic  der  Natur,”  W.,  II. 

1798.  “Von  der  Weltseele,”  W.,  II. 

1799.  “Erster  Entwurf  eines  Systems  der  Naturphilosophie,”  W.,  III. 

(Introduction,  transl.  by  Thos.  Davidson,  Journal  of  Speculative 
Philosophy,  I.) 

3.  Identity  Philosophy 

1800.  “System  des  transcendentalen  Idealismus,”  W.,  III. 

(Introduction,  transl.  by  Thos.  Davidson,  Journal  of  Speculative 
Philosophy,  I.) 

1800.  “ Vorlesungen  liber  die  Philosophic  der  Kunst,”  W.,  V. 

1801.  “Darstellung  meines  Systems  der  Philosophie,”  W.,  IV. 

1804.  “System  der  gesammten  Philosophie  und  dcr  Naturphilosophie  ins- 
besondere.”  (First  published  in  W.,  VI.) 

4.  Philosophy  of  God  and  of  Freedom 
1804.  “Philosophie  und  Religion.”  W.,  VI. 

1809.  “Untersuchungen  uber  das  Wesen  der  menschlichen  Freiheit,” 
W.,  VII. 

“Werke,”  ed.  by  his  sons,  1856-61.  Vols.  1-14. 

h.  Biography  and  Criticism 

Plitt,  G.  L.,  “ Aus  Schelling’s  Leben  in  Briefen.”  3 vols.,  Leipzig,  1869-70. 
Waitz,  G.  “Caroline,  Briefe,”  1871. 


The  Romantic  School 


543 


Watson,  J.,  “Schelling’s  Transcendental  Idealism,”  Chicago,  1882. 

(Containing  good  paraphrases  and  discriminating  criticism  of  Schelling’s 
more  important  works.) 

Rosenkranz,  “Schelling,”  Dantzig,  1843. 

Noack,  “Schelling  und  die  Philosophic  der  Romantik,”  Berlin,  1859. 

Cf.  also  Kuno  Fischer,  op.  cit.,  Vol.  VI. ; Royce,  “The  Spirit  of  Modern 
Philosophy,”  Lecture  VI. 

THE  ROMANTIC  SCHOOL 
(Cf.  R.  Haym,  “Die  romantische  Schule.”) 

Karl  Wilhelm  Friedrich  von  Schlegel  (1772-1829). 

Chief  Works  on  Philosophy:  — 

1799.  “Lucinde.  Ein  Roman.”  Berlin. 

1804-06.  “ Philosophische  Vorlesungen.” 

“Werke,”  10  vols.,  Vienna,  1822-25  and  1846. 

Novalis  (Friedr.  Ludwig  von  Hardenberg,  1772-1801). 

“Novalis  Schriften,”  Berlin,  1802. 

(Cf.  the  works  of  Tieck,  Hoffman,  A.  W.  Schlegel.  No  one  cf  these  is, 
strictly  speaking,  metaphysical.) 

GEORG  WILHELM  FRIEDRICH  HEGEL  (1770-1831) 

I.  Life 

Beside  the  biographies  of  contemporary  philosophers  that  of 
Hegel  is  very  prosaic.  His  life  lacked  the  moral  fire  of  Fichte’s, 
the  romantic  capriciousness  of  Schelling’s,  and  the  deplorable  yet 
diverting  selfishness  of  Schopenhauer’s.  In  fact,  though  Kant 
lived  practically  all  his  life  in  the  little  town  of  Konigsberg,  whereas 
Hegel  knew  the  university  life  of  Tubingen,  Jena,  Heidelberg,  and 
Berlin,  and  lived  all  his  later  years  in  close  association  with  the 
society  of  the  Prussian  capital,  yet  it  is  true  of  Hegel  as  of  Kant, 
that  the  greatest  events  of  his  life  are  professional  rather  than 
personal,  that  the  publication  of  his  books  rather  than  his  more 
personal  achievements  claim  attention,  that  the  doctrine  rather 
than  the  man  wins  one’s  interest. 

Hegel  was  born  in  1770,  at  Stuttgart.  Of  his  boyhood  little  is 
known,  save  from  the  pages  of  a priggish  sort  of  journal  which  he 
kept,  partly  in  German  and  partly  in  Latin,  from  1785  to  1787. 
The  biographers  add  that  he  took  snuff  and  played  at  chess  and 
cards  from  his  early  youth.1  In  1788  he  entered  the  university 
of  Tubingen  as  student  of  theology.  He  occupied  himself,  how 
1 Cf.  Rosenkranz,  “ Hegel’s  Leben,”  p.  23. 


544  The  Post-Kantian  Monistic  Idealists 


ever,  with  philosophy  and  with  the  classics,  finding  indeed  less 
satisfaction  with  his  university  work  than  in  certain  friendships  — 
notably  with  Holderlin,  the  eager  classicist,  and  with  Schelling. 

There  followed  three  years  in  Switzerland,  in  the  conventional 
position  of  tutor.  In  these  years  Hegel  was  mainly  occupied  with 
theological  and  historical  studies,  but  in  a letter  to  Schelling,  dated 
1795,  he  states  that  he  has  taken  up  again  the  study  of  Kant,  and 
significantly  prophesies  a philosophical  era  in  which  the  idea  of  God 
will  be  recognized  as  the  idea  of  the  Absolute.  From  1797  till 
1800,  still  as  house  tutor,  Hegel  lived  in  Frankfort  on  the  Main. 
These  are  the  years  in  which  for  the  first  time  he  formally  set 
forth  his  system.  The  early  draft  of  it  still  exists  in  manuscript, 
and  includes  all  the  essential  features  of  the  doctrine  as  later  de- 
veloped.1 

In  1801,  when  he  was  just  past  thirty,  Hegel  went  to  Jena  as 
privat-docent  in  philosophy.  With  Schelling,  who  for  several 
years  had  been  professor  of  philosophy  in  Jena,  he  believed  himself 
to  be  in  entire  metaphysical  accord.  In  1802-03,  indeed,  the  two 
edited  together  the  “Kritisches  Journal  der  Philosophic,”  a work 
in  which  Hegel  had  the  greater  interest.  (In  later  years  their  dis- 
ciples quarrelled  bitterly  over  the  question  of  the  exact  share  of  each 
in  the  work.)  The  divergence  between  the  two  systems  soon  became 
evident,  and  from  1803,  when  Schelling  left  Jena,  the  break  wi- 
dened rapidly.  There  is  a real  likeness  between  Hegel  and  Schel- 
ling in  their  intuitive  outlook,  and  there  is  even  a similarity  in  their 
results;  but  Schelling’s  mysticism  is  a method  as  well  as  an  intui- 
tion and  an  attainment,  whereas  Hegel’s  method  is  that  of  patient 
demonstration  and  logical  reasoning.  It  is  this  temperamental 
difference,  coupled  with  the  reaction  from  an  intimacy  founded 
mainly  on  propinquity  and  on  general  philosophical  interests, 
which  occasioned  the  complete  rupture  between  Hegel  and 
Schelling.2 

Hegel’s  biographer,  Rosenkranz,  tells  us  that  he  “enchained” 
the  students  at  Jena  by  the  “intensity  of  his  speculation.”  3 In 

1 Rosenkranz,  op.  cit.,  104  seq. 

2 Ibid..,  p.  201.  In  1803,  in  his  first  lectures  on  the  history  of  philosophy, 
Hegel  criticised  Schelling  but  still  spoke  warmly  of  him  and  acknowledged 
his  contributions  to  philosophy.  The  open  rupture  between  the  two  followed 
on  the  ironical  allusions  to  Schelling’s  method  contained  in  the  Introduction 
to  Hegel’s  “Phanomenologie”  (1806). 

3 Op.  cit.,  p.  215. 


Georg  Wilhelm  Friedrich  Hegel 


545 


1805  his  ability  was  recognized  by  his  appointment  as  professor 
extraordinarius.  One  year  later  his  life  in  Jena  was  rudely  ended 
by  the  incursion  of  the  French  under  Napoleon,  ‘that  world-soul,’ 
as  Hegel  describes  him.  The  university  was  closed  for  the  time 
being,  and  Hegel  went  first  to  Bamberg  where  he  spent  two  years 
as  editor  of  a newspaper,  and  next  to  Niirnberg  where  for  eight 
years  he  was  rector  of  a gymnasium.  In  18 n he  was  married  to 
Marie  von  Tucher,  the  daughter  of  an  old  Niirnberg  family,  to 
whom  he  wrote  poetry  and  love-letters  much  after  the  fashion  of 
an  unphilosophical  lover.  In  1812-13  he  published  his  Logic; 
in  1816  he  was  called  to  the  professorship  of  philosophy  in  Heidel- 
berg; after  two  more  years  he  succeeded  to  Fichte  in  the  uni- 
versity of  Berlin. 

The  story  of  Hegel’s  life  in  Berlin,  which  was  only  ended  by 
his  death  in  1831,  is  a tale  of  professional,  political,  and  social 
achievement.  Through  all  these  years  he  enjoyed  the  confidence 
and  the  support  of  the  government,  for  his  social  philosophy,  rightly 
or  wrongly,  was  interpreted  as  a philosophical  glorification  of  Prus- 
sian institutions.  In  the  university  he  dominated  the  thought  and 
commanded  the  allegiance  of  his  students;  with  his  family  he  en- 
joyed a peaceful  and  happy  life;  and  in  the  best  society  of  the  Prus- 
sian capital  he  occupied  a commanding  position.  It  is  hard  for  us 
to  imagine  Hegel  as  achieving  distinctively  social  success;  but 
this  inscription  on  a drinking  glass  which  Goethe  gave  him  goes 
far  to  attest  it : — 

“ Dem  absoluten 
empfielt  sich 
schonstens 

zu  freundlicher  Aufnahme 
das  Urphanomen.” 

II . Bibliography 

a.  Chief  Philosophical  Works  in  the  Order  of  Publication 

(The  references  are  to  the  volumes  of  the  Sammtliche  Werke  (W.).) 

1807.  “Die  Phanomenologie  des  Geistes.”  Bamberg  u.  Wurzburg,  W.,  II. 

A curious  compound  of  metaphysics  and  type-psychology  with 
the  philosophy  of  history  and  of  religion.  The  book  is  char- 
acteristically Hegelian : his  voyage  of  discovery,  as  Hegel  himself 
called  it. 

1812-13.  “ Wissenschaft  der  Logik.”  Niirnberg;  2d  ed.  in  which  Vol.  I. 

is  thoroughly  revised,  1841;  W.,  III-V.  Vol.  I.  section  on  Quan- 
tity, transl.  by  Stirling.  (For  summary,  cf.  supra,  Chapter  10.) 

2N 


546  Georg  Wilhelm  Friedrich  Hegel 

1817.  “ Encyclopadie  der  philosophischen  Wissenschaften  im  Grundrisse.” 

Heidelb.  2d  enlarged  edition,  1827;  3ded.  1830;  W.,  VI,  VII, 
transl.  by  Wallace. 

This  work  in  three  parts,  Logic,  Philosophy  of  Spirit  and  Phi- 
losophy of  Nature,  perhaps  resembles  the  synopses  of  philo- 
sophical doctrine  dictated  by  Hegel  to  his  older  pupils  in  the 
Nfirnberg  Gymnasium.  In  1827  Hegel  enlarged  it,  prefixing 
several  introductory  chapters.  As  it  appears  in  the  complete 
edition  of  his  works,  it  has  been  further  supplemented  by  notes, 
taken  by  the  editors  from  Hegel’s  lectures. 

1820.  “ Grundlinien  der  Philosophie  des  Rechts,”  Berl.;  3d  ed.,  1854.  W., 

VIII.  Transl.  by  Dyde. 

A study  of  the  objects,  or  goals,  of  the  individual  will.  In  the 
first  section,  will  is  analyzed  and  found  to  consist  in  the  imperious 
aspect  of  self-consciousness.  The  following  sections  discuss  three 
conceptions  of  right:  1.  Abstract  right,  which  in  its  primary  form 
is  property  right;  2.  Morality,  the  consciousness  of  individual 
obligation;  and  3.  Social  morality,  Sittlichkeit,  the  acknowledg- 
ment of  oneself  as  morally  related  to  family,  state,  humanity. 
The  “ Philosophy  of  Right  ” has,  indeed,  the  appearance  of  a text- 
book of  social  philosophy. 


Posthumous 

The  titles  following  are  of  books  which  are  really  reports  of  Hegel’s  lectures 
published  after  his  death,  not  from  manuscripts  of  his  own  but  from  the  col- 
lated lecture-notes  of  his  students.  Evidently  they  cannot  offer  an  entirely 
authoritative  account  of  Hegel’s  philosophy. 

1832.  “Vorlesungen  fiber  die  Philosophie  der  Religion,  nebst  eine  Schrift 
fiber  die  Beweise  vom  Dasein  Gottes,”  ed.  by  P.  Marheineke;  2d 
altereded.  1840;  W.,  n and  12.  Transl.  by  Speirs  and  Sanderson. 
Part  I.  on  the  nature  of  the  religious  consciousness  is  followed 
(Parts  II.  and  III.)  by  a discussion  of  the  three  main  forms  of 
religion:  “Natural  Religion;”  “The  Religion  of  Spiritual  In- 
dividuality” (which  includes  the  Hebrew  religion  of  sublimity,  the 
Hellenic  religion  of  beauty,  and  the  Roman  religion  of  utility); 
and  the  “ Absolute  Religion.”  Absolute  Religion,  Hegel  teaches, 
is  man’s  consciousness  of  union  with  God,  the  infinite,  personal 
spirit.  Thus,  the  object  of  the  absolute  religion  is  that  of  the  ab- 
solute philosophy. 

It  should  be  noted  that  the  second  edition  of  the  “ Werke  ” alters 
and  enlarges  these  lectures  on  the  “Philosophy  of  Religion.” 
1833~36.  “Vorlesungen  fiber  die  Geschichte  der  Philosophie,”  ed.  by  K.  L. 

Michelet,  2d  ed.,  1842;  W.,  13-14.  Transl.  by  E.  S.  Haldane. 

An  account  of  the  growth  of  philosophical  systems  from  each 
other,  which  insists  that  every  system  is  preserved  as  subordinated, 
yet  significant,  element  in  that  which  supersedes  it.  Hegel’s  treat- 
ment of  ancient  philosophy,  his  appreciation  of  Spinoza,  and  his 
criticism  of  Kant  are  of  especial  value. 


Hegelian  Bibliography 


547 


1835-38.  “Vorlesungen  iiber  die  Esthetik,”  ed.  by  H.  G.  Hotho;  2d  ed. 

1840-43 ; W.,  10,  Pts.  1,  2,  and  3.  Translations  of  portions  of 
the  Esthetics  by  Bosanquet,  Bryant,  and  Hastie. 

.Esthetics  is  conceived  by  Hegel  as  the  philosophy  of  Art. 
Part  I.  treats  the  aesthetic  consciousness  as  a deepening  of  self- 
consciousness  by  immersion  in  the  object  of  beauty ; and  defines 
the  beautiful  object,  conversely,  as  a spiritualized  ( vergeistigt ) 
sensuous  object.  Part  II.  considers  the  types  of  art,  symbolic, 
classic,  and  romantic;  and  Part  III.  discusses  the  different  arts, 
architecture,  sculpture,  painting,  music,  poetry  — in  the  order  of 
the  more  to  the  less  material  art. 

1837.  “Vorlesungen  fiber  die  Philosophic  der  Geschichte,”  ed.  by  E.  Gans, 
2d  edition,  1840;  W.,  9.  Transl.  by  Sibree. 

The  history  of  humanity  imaged  as  the  development  of  a world 
spirit;  a conception  of  historical  events  as  vitally  related  by  a 
growing  reconciliation  of  opposing  phases ; and  a conception  of 
history  as  the  progressively  closer  relating  of  human  beings. 

Hegel’s  occasional  essays  and  speeches,  in  particular  his  early  contribu- 
tions to  the  Jena  “Kritisches  Journal,”  and  his  later  papers  in  the 
“ Jahrbficher  ffir  Wissenschaftliche  Kritik,”  are  found  in  Volumes  1,  16,  17 
of  the  “ Werke.” 


b.  Editions  and  Translations 

“Werke,”  published  1832-40,  by  a group  of  his  students.  Berlin. 

“The  Phenomenology  of  Spirit,”  Chapters  1,  2,  and  3,  transl.  by  Brockmeyer 
and  W.  T.  Harris  in  Jour,  of  Specul.  Philos.,  Vol.  II. 

“The  Logic,”  Book  I.,  “Quality,”  transl.  by  J.  H.  Stirling  in  “The  Secret 
of  Hegel,”  1865,  1898  (cf.  infra). 

The  Encyclopedia : — 

“The  Logic,”  transl.  by  W.  Wallace,  Oxford,  2d  ed.,  1892. 

“The  Philosophy  of  Mind,”  transl.  by  W.  Wallace,  Oxford,  1892. 

“The  Philosophy  of  Right,”  transl.  by  S.  W.  Dyde,  Lond.  and  N.Y.,  1895. 
“Lectures  on  the  Philosophy  of  Religion,”  transl.  by  E.  B.  Speirs  and  J.  B. 
Sanderson,  3 vols.,  Lond.,  1895. 

“Lectures  on  the  History  of  Philosophy,”  transl.  by  E.  S.  Haldane,  3 vols., 
Lond.,  1892  seq. 

“Lectures  on  the  Philosophy  of  History,”  transl.  by  J.  Sibree.  Bohn  Libr., 
i860. 

“ Lectures  on  Esthetics : Introduction  to  the  Philosophy  of  Art,”  transl.  by 
B.  Bosanquet,  Lond.,  1886. 

Philosophy  of  Art,”  abridged,  transl.  by  W.  Hastie,  Edinburgh. 

For  translations  of  selected  parts  of  the  u Logic,”  “ Science  of  Rights,” 
“History  of  Philosophy,”  “Philosophy  of  Religion,”  and  “Esthetics,” 
cf.  Journ.  of  Specul.  Philos.,  Vols.  II.— XX. 


Georg  Wilhelm  Friedrich  Hegel 


548 


c.  Biography 

Rosenkranz,  K.,  “Hegel’s  Leben,”  Berlin,  1844.  (Published  as  supplemen- 
tary  volume  to  Hegel’s  Werke.) 

“Hegel  als  deutscher  Nationalphilosoph.,”  Leipzig,  1870. 

Haym,  R.,  “Hegel  und  seine  Zeit,”  Berlin,  1857. 

Klaiber,  J.,  “Holderlin,  Hegel  u.  Schelling  in  ihren  schwabischen  Jugend- 
jahren,”  Stuttgart,  1877. 


d.  Commentary  and  Criticism 
r.  On  Hegel’s  Logic 

(Of  the  books  and  articles  named  below,  Stirling’s  book  and  McTag- 
gart’s  articles  contain  detailed  text  criticism  invaluable  to  the  close  student.) 

Stirling,  J.  H.,  “The  Secret  of  Hegel,  being  the  Hegelian  System  in  Origin, 
Principle,  Form,  and  Matter,”  1st  ed.  in  2 vols.,  Lond.,  1865;  3d  ed., 
r vol.,  Edin.  and  N.Y.,  T898. 

J.  McT.  E.  McTaggart: — - 

(1)  A series  of  articles  on  “Hegel’s  Categories,”  in  Mind , N.S.,  VI. 

and  seq.,  1897,  sei- 

(2)  “Studies  in  the  Hegelian  Dialectic,”  Camb.,  and  N.Y.,  1896. 
Harris,  W.  T.,  “Hegel’s  Logic,”  Chicago,  1890. 

Calkins,  M.  W.,  “The  Order  of  the  Hegelian  Categories,”  Mind,  N.S.,  XII., 
1903. 

Noel,  G.,  “La  logique  de  Hegel,”  Paris,  1897.  (Careful  exposition  with 
comments.) 

Hibben,  J.  G.,  “ Hegel’s  Logic,”  N.Y.,  r902.  (A  brief  paraphrase,  with  occa- 
sional comment,  of  the  “Logic  of  the  Encyclopaedia.”) 

Baillie,  J.  B.,  “The  Origin  and  Significance  of  Hegel’s  Logic,”  Lond.,  rpor. 
(A  suggestive  study  of  the  “Logic,”  in  comparison  with  the  “ Phanome- 
nologie.”) 

2.  On  Other  Works  of  Hegel 

McTaggart,  J.  McT.  E.  “Studies  in  the  Hegelian  Cosmology,”  Camb., 
1901.  (Discussion  of  Hegel’s  doctrines  of  Immortality,  of  the  Nature  of 
God,  of  Sin,  of  Punishment,  of  Society.) 

Morris,  G.  S.  “ Hegel’s  Philosophy  of  the  State  and  History,”  Chicago,  1887. 
Kedney,  J.  S.,  “Hegel’s  Aesthetics,”  Chicago,  1885. 

3.  General  Commentaries 

Wallace,  W.,  “ Prolegomena  to  the  Study  of  Hegel’s  Philosophy  and  especially 
of  his  Logic,”  2d  ed.,  Oxford,  1894. 

Caird,  E.,  “Hegel,”  Edin.,  1883. 

Seth,  A.,  “Hegelianism  and  Personality,”  Edin.  and  Lond.,  2d  ed.,  1893. 
According  to  this  book,  personality  is  virtually  denied  by  Hegelian- 
ism. 


The  Order  of  the  Hegelian  Categories  549 

Rosenkranz,  K.,  “Kritische  Erlauterungen  des  hegelschen  Systems,” 
Konigsberg,  1840. 

Kostlin,  K.,  “Hegel,”  Tubingen,  1870. 

III.  Critical  Note  upon  the  Order  of  the  Hegelian 

Categories 

The  interpretation,  in  this  book,  of  Hegel’s  argument  has  really 
proposed  a new  reading  of  his  Logic.  As  the  summary  on 
page  362  indicates,  it  has  aimed  to  neglect  artificial  distinctions,  to 
exhibit  the  parallelism  of  many  different  sets  of  categories  in  dif- 
ferent sections,  or  books,  of  the  “Logic,”  and  to  disentangle  dis- 
tinct lines  of  argument.  At  the  same  time,  it  has  proposed  only 
occasional  emendations  of  Hegel’s  argument,  and  it  has  made 
only  two  important  omissions:  the  category  of  ‘Becoming’  and 
the  sections  included  under  ‘Quantity.’  These  omissions  and 
reorderings  must  briefly  be  justified. 

The  category  of  Becoming  has  not  been  discussed,  on  the 
ground  that  it  is  not,  as  it  claims  to  be,  a synthesis  of  the  first  two 
categories,  — • Being  and  Naught,  — but  is  rather  the  universal  cate- 
gory of  the  Logic,  the  common  method  by  which  every  category 
is  shown  to  involve  its  opposite  and  thus  to  imply  a reality  deeper 
than  that  of  itself  or  of  its  other.  Becoming,  which  is  merely,  thus, 
a name  for  the  dialectic  process,  might  as  well  be  called  the  synthe- 
sis of  Somewhat  and  Other,  of  Finite  and  Infinite,  or  of  Essence 
and  Appearance  as  of  Being  and  Naught.  The  true  synthesis 
of  Being  and  Naught,  on  the  other  hand,  is  Determined  Being; 
for  since  Pure  Being  and  Pure  Nothing  are  shown  to  be  mere  fictions, 
the  reality  implied  by  each  is  that  of  Determined  Being.  Hegel 
admits  this  by  the  statement  “Being  Determinate  is  the  Union  of 
Being  and  Nothing.”  1 He  virtually  admits,  also,  that  Becoming 
is  a universal  category,  by  giving  the  name  to  the  transition  from 
Somewhat  to  Other.2  Indeed,  every  page  of  the  Logic  shows  the 
futility  of  trying  to  confine  Becoming  to  any  one  stage  — least  of 
all  to  an  early  stage  — of  the  thought  development. 

The  entire  neglect,  in  this  reading  of  Hegel,  of  the  sections  on 
Quantity  and  Measure  is  a more  serious  matter.  The  attempt  to 
explain  it  in  detail  would  involve  a complicated  discussion,  but 
the  reasons  for  the  omission  are  in  general  the  following : the  cate- 


1 “ Encycl.,”  § 89. 


2 Werke,  III.,  1152. 


55<> 


Georg  Wilhelm  Friedrich  Hegel 


gories  of  Quantity  are  substantially  parallel  with  those  of  the 
later  sections  of  Book  I.  — the  categories  of  Finitude  and  Infinity, 
of  One  and  Being-for-Self.  For  example:  (i)  The  attributes 
of  Quantity,  Continuity,  and  Discretion  are  explicitly  identified 
with  the  Attraction  and  Repulsion  (meaning  likeness  and  differ- 
ence) within  the  One.1  (2)  The  discussion  of  Infinite  Quantita- 
tive Progression  differs  in  no  essential  respect  from  the  treatment 
of  the  subject  in  the  consideration  of  the  Quality-categories,  Fini- 
tude and  Infinity.  Finally,  (3)  the  discussion  of  Quantitative 
Ratio  2 is  a close  anticipation  of  the  teaching,  in  Book  III., about 
the  interrelation  of  syllogisms;  and  the  sections  in  Book  III.,  as 
we  have  seen,  are  really  a continuation  of  the  concluding  sections 
under  Quality. 

This  virtual  parallel  of  the  categories  of  Quantity  with  those  of 
Quality  does  away  with  the  alleged  necessity  of  ‘reconciling’ 
Quality  with  Quantity  in  Measure.  The  section  on  Measure, 
therefore, — in  all  its  confusion  of  empirical  illustration  with  meta- 
physical analysis,  — simply  falls  away,  to  the  great  advantage  of 
Hegel’s  argument. 

The  initial  difficulty  in  the  interpretation  of  Book  II.  is  the 
arrangement  of  its  categories  on  the  model  of  the  order  in  Book  I., 
in  triad  form,  as  if  they  grew  out  of  each  other  by  antithesis  and 
synthesis,  whereas  most  of  these  categories  of  Book  II.  are,  in  the 
main,  restatements  of  the  fundamental  opposition,  that  between 
Essence  and  Appearance,  the  really  real  and  the  apparently  real. 
The  true  movement  in  the  two  books  may  thus  be  symbolized : — 


In  Book  I. 
Thesis  Antithesis 


In  Book  II. 
Thesis  Antithesis 


Synthesis 

= New  Thesis  Antithesis 


= Thesis  = Antithesis 
= Thesis  = Antithesis 


etc.  etc. 


Synthesis 
= New  Thesis 
etc. 


Synthesis 


1 Werke,  III.,  204;  “Eneycl.,”  § 100. 
2Werke,  III.,  367s;  “ Encycl.,”  § 1051. 


The  Order  of  the  Hegelian  Categories  55 1 

Ground  and  Consequence,  Matter  and  Form,  Force  and  Expres- 
sion, Inward  and  Outward,  and  even  Substance  and  Accidents, 
are  virtually  variants  of  the  expression  Essence  and  Appearance, 
though  each  set  of  terms  is  meant  to  show  more  clearly  than  the 
last  the  actual  relatedness  of  the  Inner  and  the  Outer,  and  the  con- 
sequent impossibility  of  defining  ultimate  reality  in  the  terms  of 
the  Inner  only.1 

This  discussion,  in  Book  II.  of  the  “Logic,”  of  Reality  as  Un- 
knowable Essence  has  been  transposed  in  the  present  arrangement 
to  follow  on  the  consideration  in  Book  I.  of  Undetermined  Being. 
It  may  be  freely  admitted  that  this  change  of  order  is  not  positively 
required.  For  the  hypothesis,  here  discussed,  that  Reality  is 
unknowable  might  be  made  at  any  point  of  Hegel’s  argument, 
and  not  merely  at  its  beginning.  But  though  the  transposition 
is  not  strictly  necessary,  it  is,  on  the  other  hand,  both  natural  and 
logical.  The  destructive  analysis  of  the  doctrine  of  ultimate  reality 
as  unknowable  Essence  is  more  closely  connected  with  the  proof 
that  ultimate  reality  is  no  Undetermined  Being,  than  with  any 
other  section  of  the  “Logic,”  2 in  that  both  theories  would  make 
a positive  metaphysics  impossible.  For  this  reason,  the  Essence 
hypothesis,  like  the  Pure  Being  theory,  appropriately  precedes  the 
positive  discussions  of  the  “Logic.” 

The  transposition  of  the  sections  on  Identity  and  Difference, 
Likeness  and  Unlikeness,  would  still,  however,  be  imperatively 
needed,  even  if  the  discussion  of  Essence  were  left  in  its  present 
place.  As  they  stand,  these  categories  — Identity  and  the  others 
— come  midway  between  the  categories  of  Essence  and  Appear- 
ance and  the  entirely  parallel  categories  of  Ground  and  Conse- 
quence. But,  as  our  summary  of  these  sections  has  shown,3 
Identity,  Difference,  Likeness,  and  Unlikeness  are  not  relations  of 
unknowable  essence  to  the  world  of  appearance,  but  rather  cate- 
gories of  the  connection  of  determined  realities  within  the  world  of 
appearance.  Since,  then,  it  is  necessary  to  dislodge  these  cate- 
gories — Identity  and  the  others  — from  their  present  position, 

1 Cf.  “Encycl.,”  § 136;  “ Phanomenologie,”  A,  III.,  “Kraft  und  Ver- 
stand.”  Compare  also  Hutchinson  Stirling’s  criticism:  “The  manifestation, 
he  says,  depends  on  the  essence  and  yet,  no  less,  the  essence  depends  on  the  mani- 
festation. This  is  a simple  idea,  but  with  this,  and  this  only,  Hegel  contrives  to 
wash  over  page  after  page.”  (“  Secret  of  Hegel,”  Chapter  2,  C.  3,  p.  41.) 

2 Cf.  Werke,  IV.,  127. 

3 P-  369  seq. 


552 


The  Post-Kantian  Monistic  Idealists 


there  can  be  no  doubt  that  they  follow  most  naturally  on  the  paral- 
lel categories,  in  Book  I.,  of  Reality  and  Negation,  Somewhat  and 
Other,  and  the  rest. 

The  remaining  changes  of  order  suggested  in  this  summary  of 
Hegel’s  teaching  will  be  readily  allowed,  when  once  the  need  of 
some  change  in  the  present  order  has  been  clearly  apprehended. 
Some  transposition  of  the  categories  is,  in  truth,  demanded  by  the 
fact  that  Hegel’s  argument,  in  its  present  form,  has  the  wholly  fic- 
titious and  misleading  appearance  of  progress  and  steady  advance 
from  the  earliest  categories  of  Being  to  the  final  category  of  Abso- 
lute Idea.  The  truth  is,  however,  that  both  Book  II.  and  Book 
III.  are  largely  composed  of  repetitions,  in  varied  form  and  termi- 
nology, of  the  categories  already  discussed.  Just  because  it  doubles 
on  itself,  without  proper  warning,  the  Hegelian  argument  needs 
to  be  disentangled.  The  changes  required  consist  merely  in  the 
juxtaposition  of  groups  of  equivalent  categories;  and  the  justifica- 
tion for  each  change  is  found  — as  has  been  shown  — in  Hegel’s 
own  admission.  He  himself  asserts  the  equivalence  of  Identity 
and  Difference  not  only  with  the  categories  of  Determined  Being, 
in  Book  I.,  but  with  the  categories  of  the  Judgment  in  Book  III. 
He  clearly  implies  the  parallelism  of  the  categories  of  Syllogism 
with  the  categories,  in  Book  I.,  of  Being-for-Self,  or  One,  and  he 
distinctly  affirms  the  substantial  identity  of  Mechanism,  in  Book 
III.,  with  Reciprocity  in  Book  II. 

This  attempted  reconstruction  of  Hegel’s  order  will,  however, 
fail  of  its  object  if  it  in  any  wise  detracts  from  the  value  of 
Hegel’s  argument.  It  should,  rather,  reveal  the  strength  of  a 
system  which  has  triumphed  over  such  difficulties  of  interpreta- 
tion. The  idealistic  critic  may,  therefore,  reshape  but  he  may 
not  reject  Hegel’s  proof  that  ultimate  reality  is  an  absolute 
self.1 

ARTHUR  SCHOPENHAUER  (1788-1860) 

I.  Life 

Arthur  Schopenhauer,  youngest  of  the  great  post-Kantian  Ger- 
man philosophers,  was  born  thirteen  years  after  Schelling,  in  1788, 
the  only  son  of  a well-to-do  merchant  of  cosmopolitan  tendencies. 

1 The  greater  part  of  this  Note  is  reproduced  from  the  paper  by  the  writer 
already  referred  to,  in  Mind,  N.S.,  XII.,  1903. 


Arthur  Schopenhauer 


553 


At  fifteen,  accordingly,  the  boy  Arthur  travelled  with  his  parents 
in  Holland,  in  France,  and  in  England.  The  philosopher’s  works 
bear  witness  to  the  good  which  he  gained  by  his  sojourn  in 
Paris  and  in  London.  No  contemporary  German  philosopher 
ever  attained  Schopenhauer’s  clearness  of  style,  and  he  has  hardly 
written  a chapter  which  has  not  gained  from  his  wide  acquaintance 
with  modern  literature.  The  mercantile  career  which  succeeded 
upon  these  W anderjahre  proved  a toil  and  a vexation  of  spirit 
to  Arthur  Schopenhauer.  It  was  terminated,  with  his  mother’s 
consent,  soon  after  the  death  of  his  father  in  1805.  The  mother, 
Johanna  Schopenhauer,  a brilliant  and  attractive  but  self-centred 
woman,  took  up  her  abode  in  Weimar  after  her  husband’s  death, 
and  shone  in  the  society  of  Goethe,  Schlegel,  and  the  other  men  of 
the  brilliant  Weimar  court.  Schopenhauer,  however,  was  not 
admitted  to  his  mother’s  circle.  The  two  were  indeed  utterly 
antipathetic,  so  that  Johanna  Schopenhauer  could  write  to  him: 
“It  is  needful  to  my  happiness  to  know  your  happiness  but  not  to 
be  a witness  of  it.  . . . I will  make  any  sacrifice  rather  than  con- 
sent to  live  with  you.  . . . Your  eternal  quibbles,  your  laments 
over  the  stupid  world  and  over  human  misery,  give  me  bad  nights 
and  unpleasant  dreams.” 

From  these  unsympathetic  words  one  gains  a vivid  impression 
of  Schopenhauer’s  temperamental  pessimism.  His  conviction  of 
the  misery  of  human  existence  resulted  not  in  active  warfare  on  its 
evils  but  in  self-centred  brooding  and  in  nervous  fears;  his  only 
activity  was  that  of  thought.  He  matriculated  at  Gottingen ; later 
studied  at  Berlin;  and  in  1813,  after  four  years  mainly  devoted  to 
the  classics  and  to  philosophy,  gained  his  doctorate  at  Jena  by 
the  brilliant  essay  on  “The  Fourfold  Root  of  Sufficient  Reason.” 

During  the  next  five  years  he  lived  for  the  most  part  in  Dresden, 
occupied  in  writing  the  first  volume  of  his  great  work,  “The 
World  as  Will  and  Idea.”  Through  the  success  which  he  antici- 
pated for  this  book  he  hoped  to  secure  a professional  following 
and  a university  position.  But  to  his  natural  disappointment  and 
to  his  inexpressible  scorn  the  book  attracted  relatively  little  atten- 
tion and  the  lectures  which  he  offered  in  1820,  as  privat-docent, 
in  Berlin  barely  gained  him  a hearing.  The  announcement  of  the 
lectures  was  repeated  until  1831,  but  Schopenhauer  never  delivered 
them  again.  It  was  the  day  of  Hegel’s  vogue,  and  the  philosophical 


554  The  Post-Kantian  Monistic  Idealists 


public,  accustomed  as  it  was  to  metaphysics  in  a barbarous  jargon, 
had  no  ears  for  Schopenhauer’s  keen  and  clear  philosophical  analy- 
sis. No  one  can  blame  him  for  resenting  the  injustice,  but  no  one 
can  justify  his  bitter  recrimination  and  his  personal  abuse  of  the 
men  he  called  his  rivals. 

From  this  time  until  his  death  in  i860  he  lived  a bitter,  selfish, 
and  morose  life  full  of  petty  personal  interests  and  great  only  in  its 
intellectual  achievements.  His  most  human  characteristic  was 
a warm  kindness  to  animals,  and  the  dwellers  in  Frankfort  on  the 
Main,  where  he  lived  in  retirement  from  1831,  were  familiar  with 
the  precisely  dressed  figure  of  the  pessimistic  philosopher  as  he 
took  his  daily  walks  in  company  with  his  white  poodle. 

II.  Bibliography 

a.  Works  of  Schopenhauer  in  the  Order  of  Publication 

1813.  “Uber  die  vierfache  Wurzel  des  Satzes  vom  zureichenden  Grunde,” 
Rudolst.  Transl.  as  “The  Fourfold  Root  . . .”  by  Hillebrand. 
(Cf.  supra,  Chapter  9,  p.  345.) 

1816.  “Uber  das  Sehen  und  die  Farben,”  Leipz. 

(An  essay  due  to  the  influence  of  Goethe,  who  interested  Scho- 
penhauer in  investigations  on  colors.) 

1819.  “Die  Welt  als  Wille  und  Vorstellung,”  Leipz.,  Vol.  I.  Transl.  by 
Haldane  and  Kemp  as  “The  World  as  Will  and  Idea.” 

Parts  I.,  III.,  and  IV.  of  this,  the  most  important  work  of  Scho- 
penhauer, are  summarized  in  Chapter  9.  Part  III.  consists 
of  a brilliant  though  really  irrelevant  discussion  of  aesthetics. 
The  aesthetic  consciousness  is  conceived  as  the  immersion  of  a 
will-less  self  in  the  aesthetic  object,  or  Platonic  Idea,  that  is,  the 
object  freed  from  the 'forms  of  appearance,’ in  particular  from 
time  and  causality. 

To  this  work  Schopenhauer  added  as  supplement  an  important 
“Critique  of  the  Kantian  Philosophy.”  He  criticises  (1)  Kant’s 
doctrine  of  the  thing-in-itself ; and  with  even  greater  effectiveness 
(2)  Kant’s  category  doctrine.  Schopenhauer  maintains  (a)  that 
Kant  should  have  included  space  and  time  among  the  categories ; 
(6)  that  Kant  should  have  omitted  all  save  causality  from  the  list ; 
and  (c)  that  Kant’s  distinction  of  ‘ objective  ’ from  ‘ subjective  ’ 
succession  is  invalid. 

1836.  “Uber  den  Willen  in  der  Natur,”  Frankf.  Transl.  by  Hillebrand  as 
“On  the  Will  in  Nature.”  (Eight  essays,  under  one  title,  pref- 
aced by  an  introduction  abusing  the  philosophy  of  the  professors, 
and  in  particular  that  of  Hegel.) 

1841.  “ Die  beiden  Grundprobleme  der  Ethik.  I.  Uber  die  Freiheit  des 
menschlichen  Willens,  II.  Uber  das  Fundament  der  Moral,” 
Frankf. 


Arthur  Schopenhauer 


555 


1844.  “Die  Welt  als  Wille  und  Vorstellung,”  2d  ed.,  Vols.  I.  u.  II.  Transl. 

by  Haldane  and  Kemp.  (In  this  edition,  Schopenhauer’s 
chief  work  was  enlarged  by  a second  volume  of  illustration  and 
commentary.) 

1851.  “Parerga  und  Paralipomena,”  Berl.  Transl.  in  part  by  Saunders 
and  by  Josefe.  (Two  volumes  of  essays  on  subjects  philosophi- 
cal and  critical.) 

b.  Editions  and  Translations 

“Werke,”  edited  in  6 vols.  by  Frauenstadt.  Leipz.,  1873-74  (often  re- 
printed). 

“The  World  as  Will  and  Idea.”  Transl.  by  R.  B.  Haldane  and  J.  Kemp, 
1884-86,  Lond.,  3 vols. 

“The  Fourfold  Root ” and  “On  the  Will  in  Nature.”  Transl.  by  K.  Hille- 
brand,  Bohn  Library,  revised  ed.,  1903. 

“Selected  Essays,”  Transl.  by  Bax,  Bohn  Library. 

Selected  portions  of  “ Parerga  and  Paralipomena.”  Transl.  by  T.  B. 
Saunders,  Lond.  and  N.Y.,  3d  ed.,  1892,  5 vols.;  Chapters  1 and  2, 
transl.  by  C.  Josefe  in  Jour.  Specul.  Philos.,  Vol.  5. 


c.  Comments,  Criticisms,  and  Biography 

(For  fuller  bibliography,  cf.  Wallace  and  Caldwell  quoted  below.  Scho- 
penhauer’s text  needs  no  elucidation  and  he  is  his  own  best  commen- 
tator.) 

Wallace,  W.,  “Schopenhauer,”  Lond.,  1890;  and  article  in  “Encycl.  Brit.” 
Caldwell,  W.,  “Schopenhauer’s  System  in  its  Philosophical  Significance,” 
N.Y.,  1896. 

Gwinner,  W.,  “Arthur  Schopenhauer,”  Leipz.,  2d  ed.,  1878. 

Frauenstadt  u.  Lindner,  “Arthur  Schopenhauer:  von  ihm;  fiber  ihn,” 
Berk,  1863. 

Adamson,  R.,  “The  Philosophy  of  Schopenhauer,”  Mind,  1876. 

Volkelt,  J.,  “A.  Schopenhauer,”  Stuttg.,  1900. 

Cf.  Foucher  de  Careil,  Jellinck,  Ribot,  Seydel,  Sully,  Zimmern,  cited  by 
Rand. 

Note.  — An  ethical  system  widely  different  from  Schopenhauer’s,  that  of 
Friedrich  Wilhelm  Nietzsche  (1844-1900),  is  based  on  Schopenhauer’s  doc- 
trine of  the  Will,  interpreted  in  the  light  of  modern  evolution-theory.  Accept- 
ing Schopenhauer’s  estimate  of  the  facts  of  human  misery,  Nietzsche  sees  no 
ground  for  hope  save  in  the  development  and  the  survival  of  the  ‘super- 
man.’ His  chief  works  are:  “ Menschliches,  Allzumenschliches,”  3 vols., 
1876-80,  Chemnitz;  “Also  sprach  Zarathustra,”  1883-84,  ibid.,  Engl., 
A.  Tille,  Lond.,  1896;  “Jenseits  von  Gut  und  Bose,”  ibid.,  1886;  “Zur 
Genealogie  der  Moral,”  ibid.,  1887.  The  “Werke”  appeared  in  15  vols., 
Leipz.,  1895-1901 ; Engl,  transl.  A.  Tille,  Lond.,  1896. 


556 


Nineteenth-Century  Philosophers 


G.  NINETEENTH-CENTURY  PHILOSOPHERS  AFTER 

HEGEL 

I.  POSITIVISTS.  ( OPPONENTS  OF  METAPHYSICS) 
Auguste  Comte  (1798-1857). 

1830-42.  “Cours  de  philosophic  positive,”  Paris;  Engl,  (condensed),  bj 
H.  Martineau,  Lond.,  1853;  Lond.  and  N.Y.,  1896.  (This  work 
offers,  as  substitute  for  metaphysics,  a classification  of  the  sciences 
with  mathematics  as  base  and  sociology  as  summit.) 

M.  P.  Littre  (1801-81). 

1845.  “Analyse  raisonnee  du  cours  de  philosophic  positive  de  M.  A. 

Comte,”  Paris.  1863.  “ Comte  et  la  philosophic  positive,”  Paris. 
John  Stuart  Mill  (1806-73). 

Important  Works  : — 

1843  ff.  “System of  Logic,”  Lond.  1848.  “Principles  of  Political  Economy,”  ib. 
1863.  “Utilitarianism,”  ib.  1865.  “Auguste  Comte  and  Positivism,”  ib. 

1865.  “An  Examination  of  Sir  William  Hamilton’s  Philosophy,”  ib. 

Other  positivists  are  George  Henry  Lewes  and  Frederic  Harrison. 

II.  OPPONENTS  OF  IDEALISM 
MATERIALISTS 

(The  materialistic  movement  in  Germany  was  ‘ reinforced  ’ by  the  left- 
wing  Hegelians.  Cf.  especially  Feuerbach.  Three  of  those  named  in  the 
following  list,  Buchner,  Haeckel,  and  Ostwald,  are  often  classed  among  the 
so-called  “monists.”) 

Karl  Vogt  (1817-1895). 

1854.  “ Kohlerglaube  und  Wissenschaft,”  Giessen. 

1863.  “ Vorlesungen  liber  den  Menschen,”  ibid. 

Jacob  Moleschott  (1822-1893). 

1852.  “ Kreislauf  des  Lebens,”  Mainz. 

Friedrich  C.  C.  Ludwig  Buchner  (1824-1899). 

Chief  Philosophical  Work:  — 

1855.  “ Kraft  und  Stoff,  Dantzig ; 19th  ed.,  1898;  Engl.,  “ Force  and  Mat- 

ter,” Lond.,  1864  ; Leipz.,  1884.  1857.  “Natur  und  Geist,”  ibid. 
1869-70.  “Die  Stellung  des  Menschen  in  der  Natur,”  Leipz.;  Engl., 
Lond.,  1872.  1882.  “ Licht  und  Leben,”  Leipz.,  2d  ed.,  1895. 

Ernst  Haeckel. 

1899.  “ Die  Weltratsel,  Gemeinverstandliche  Studien  iiber  Monistische 
Philosophic,”  Bonn;  Engl.,  as  “The  World-riddle,”  1905. 
Wilhelm  Ostwald. 

1902.  “Vorlesungen  fiber  Naturphilosophie.”  Leipz. 

1910.  “Natural  Philosophy,”  transl.  by  T.  Seltzer,  N.Y. 

W.  P.  Montague. 

1908.  “Consciousness  a Form  of  Energy,”  in  “Essays  in  Honor  of  William 
James.” 


Contemporary  Philosophers 


557 


MONISTIC  REALISTS 

(For  criticism,  cf.  James  Ward,  “Naturalism  and  Agnosticism,”  1903.) 

Herbert  Spencer  (1819-1903). 

Chief  Works  on  Philosophy  and  Psychology. 

1855.  “Principles  of  Psychology,”  Lond.,  1855,  5th  ed.,  1890. 

1860-62.  “First  Principles  of  Synthetic  Philosophy,”  6th  ed.,  1889,  Lond. 

1879.  “ Data  of  Ethics.  ” 

1892-93.  “Principles  of  Ethics”  (including  the  “Data  of  Ethics”),  2 vols. 

Carl  Eduard  von  Hartmann  (1842-1906). 

Von  Hartmann’s  system  is  Schopenhauer’s  with  the  idealism 
omitted.  Von  Hartmann  substitutes  for  Schopenhauer’s  “ Will,” 
as  ultimate  reality,  the  “ Unconscious.” 

Chief  Philosophical  Work  : — 

1869.  “Philosophie  des  Unbewussten,”  Berl.,  10th  ed.,  1890.  Transl.  by 
W.  C.  Coupland,  3 vols.,  Lond.,  1884. 

NEO-REALISTS  (Chiefly  DUALISTS) 

(Cf.  Holt  and  others  in  “The  New  Realism,”  1912;  also  pp.  402  ff .,  566.) 

Alexander  S. 

1907-n.  Papers  in  Vols.  VIII. -XI.,  Proc.  Arist.  Society,  N.  S. 

1914(F).  “ The  Basis  of  Realism,”  Proceedings  of  the  British  Academy, 

XI.  (Alexander  is  a dualistic  neo-realist  who  verges  toward 
personalism.  He  teaches  that  percepts  and  images  are  ‘physical,’ 
and  that  consciousness  consists  in  ‘conation,’  or  ‘enjoyment.’ 

1910-11.  Joseph,  H.  W.  B.  Papers  in  Mind,  N.  S.,  XIX-XX. 

1915.  Prichard,  H.  A.  Mind,  N.  S.,  XXIV.  (Joseph  and  Prichard  are 
‘common-sense’  dualists.) 

Russell,  B. 

1912.  “The  Problems  of  Philosophy,”  1914-15.  Papers  in  The  Monist, 
XXIV.,  XXV. 

1914.  “Our  Knowledge  of  the  External  World,”  esp.  III.,  IV.  (Russell 
opposes  ‘neutral  monism’  and  the  common-sense  realism  of  the 
physicist  and  upholds  a theory  of  ‘ private,  ’ extra-neutral  sense-data, 

‘ perspective  ’ space,  and  ‘ things  ’ as  series  of  connected  appearances.) 

WoODBRIDGE,  F.  J.  E. 

1906.  “ Problem  of  Consciousness  ” in  “ Studies  in  Honor  of  Garman.” 

1914.  Holt,  E.  “ The  Concept  of  Consciousness,”  esp.  I.,  V-IX.  (Holt, 
a monistic  neo-realist,  conceives  a universe  of  ‘ neutral  ’ entities.) 

III.  IDEALISTS 
1.  PHENOMENALISTS 

Ernst  Mach. 

Chief  Works  with  Philosophical  Bearing  : — 

1886.  “Beitrage  zur  Analyse  der  Empfindungen,”  Jena.  Engl.,  “Analysis 
of  Sensations,”  Chicago,  1897, 

1901.  “Die  Mechanik  in  ihrer  Entwickelung,”  Leipz.,  Engl. 


55§ 


Contemporary  P kilo  sop  hers 


Karl  Pearson. 

1892,  1911.  “The  Grammar  of  Science,”  Lond. 

1911.  Cf.  C.  A.  Strong,  “Why  the  Mind  has  a Body,”  1903,  cited  pp.  237,405. 

2.  PLURALISTIC  PERSONALISTS 

(Of  these  all  save  Howison  and  McTaggart  are,  in  greater  or  less  degree,  anti- 

rationalistic.) 

William  James  (1842-1910). 

1897.  “The  Will  to  Believe”  (cf.  esp.  the  Preface). 

1907.  “Pragmatism.” 

1908.  “A  Pluralistic  Universe.” 

1909.  “The  Meaning  of  Truth  ” (a  collection  of  previously  published  papers). 
1911.  “Some  Problems  of  Philosophy.”  (Unfinished.) 

F.  C.  S.  Schiller. 

1891,  1911.  “Riddles  of  the  Sphinx,”  Lond. 

1903.  “Humanism.” 

1902.  “Axioms  as  Postulates”  (a  paper  in  “Personal  Idealism,”  Oxford). 

1905.  “The  Definition  of  Pragmatism  and  Humanism,”  Mind,  N.S.,  XIV. 

1906.  “ Pragmatism  and  Pseudo-pragmatism,”  ibid.,  XV. 

Henry  Sturt. 

1902.  “Art  and  Personality”  (in  “Personal  Idealism”). 

1906.  “Idola  Theatri,”  Oxf. 

Hastings  Rashdall. 

1902.  “Personality,  Human  and  Divine”  (a  paper  in  “Personal  Idealism”). 
George  H.  Howison. 

1895.  “The  Conception  of  God.”  (Cited  infra,  p.  561.) 

1901.  “The  Limits  of  Evolution,”  N.Y.,  2d  ed.,  1905. 

John  McT.  Ellis  McTaggart. 

1901.  “Studies  in  Hegelian  Cosmology,”  Oxf. 

Charles  Renouvier  (1819-1903). 

Important  Works  : — 

1876-1896.  “Essais  de  critique  generale, ” 12  vols. 

1903.  “Le  personnalisme,”  Paris. 

Henri  Bergson. 

1889.  “Essais  sur  les  donnees  immediates  de  la  conscience,”  transl.  as 
“Time  and  Free  Will,”  by  F.  L.  Pogson,  1910. 

1896, 1903.  “Matiere  et  Memoire,”  transl.  by  N.  M.  Paul  and  W.  S.  Palmer, 
1911. 

1907.  “L’evolution  creatrice,”  translated  as  “Creative  Evolution,”  by 

A.  Mitchell,  1911. 

Pragmatists 

(Cf.  James,  Schiller,  and  Bergson  cited  above.) 

John  Dewey. 

1903.  “Thought  and  its  Subject  Matter”  (in  “Studies  in  Logical  Theory,” 
Decennial  Publications  of  Univ.  of  Chicago,  Second  Series,  XI.). 
1906.  “Beliefs  and  Realities,”  Philos.  Review,  XV. 

“The  Experimental  Theory  of  Knowledge,”  Mind,  N.S.  XV. 


Pragmatists 


559 


Addison  W.  Moore. 

1902.  “Existence,  Meaning  and  Reality”  (a  paper  in  the  Decennial  Pub- 

lications of  the  University  of  Chicago,  Series  I.). 

1903.  “Some  Logical  Aspects  of  Purpose”  (a  paper  in  “Studies  in  Logical 

Theory”). 

1910.  “Pragmatism  and  Its  Critics.” 

Simon  Fraser  McLennan. 

1903.  “ Typical  Stages  in  the  Development  of  Judgment  ” (a  paper  in  “ Stud- 
ies in  Logical  Theory  ”). 

Henry  W.  Stuart. 

1903.  “Valuation  as  a Logical  Process”  (a  paper  in  “Studies  in  Logical 

Theory”). 

1904.  “The  Logic  of  Self-Realization”  (a  paper  in  University  of  California 

“ Studies  in  Philosophy,”  I.). 

Note  : Pragmatism 

Pragmatism  is  formulated  sometimes  as  a psychological,  some- 
times as  a logical,  sometimes  as  a metaphysical  doctrine.  In 
the  first  sense,  it  has  been  defined  by  Mr.  Schiller  as  ‘the  thorough 
recognition  that  the  purposive  character  of  mental  life  generally 
must  influence  and  pervade  also  our  most  remotely  cognitive  ac- 
tivities.’1 In  this  sense  we  all  are,  or  ought  to  be,  pragmatists; 
and  we  unquestionably  owe  a debt  to  contemporary  pragmatists 
for  laying  stress  on  the  non-cognitive  aspects  of  experience. 

As  a logical  doctrine,  pragmatism  has  two  forms.  It  teaches 
either  (1)  that  the  conception  of  the  use,  value,  or  consequences,  of 
a reality  form  part  of  the  conception  of  it;  or  (2)  that  the  conception 
of  a reality  consists  solely  in  the  conception  of  its  use  or  value. 
This  extreme  form  of  logical  pragmatism  is  formulated  in  the 
‘ maxim  ’ of  C.  S.  Peirce:  “ Consider  what  effects,  that  might  con- 
ceivably have  practical  bearings,  we  conceive  the  object  of  our  con- 
ception to  have.  Then,  our  conception  of  these  effects  is  the  whole 
of  our  conception  of  the  object.” 2 In  adherence  to  the  first  of  these 
two  senses  of  logical  pragmatism  we  are  again  practically  unani- 
mous, for  to  the  adequate  conception  of  object,  situation,  or  truth 
there  certainly  belongs,  as  inherent  part  of  it,  a conception  of  its 
consequences.  The  opposition  to  pragmatism  is,  however,  pri- 
marily directed  against  the  second  of  the  logical  conceptions  of  it. 

1 “ Humanism,”  p.  8. 

J Cf.  the  article  by  C.  S.  Peirce  in  the  Popular  Science  Monthly,  Xn.,  1878, 
which  he  quotes  in  his  contribution  to  Baldwin’s  “Dictionary  of  Psychology,”  II., 
p.  321.  In  the  later  article  Mr.  Peirce  seems,  however,  to  disavow  the  radical 
pragmatism  of  this  maxim  when  ‘ pushed  ...  to  extremes.’ 


560 


Contemporary  P hilosophers 


The  conception  of  an  object,  situation,  or  truth,  the  objectors  in- 
sist, — in  the  writer’s  view,  with  justice,  — is  more  than  a concep- 
tion of  its  future,  its  results,  its  use,  however  truly  the  conception 
includes  this  awareness  of  practical  consequences.  It  must  be 
added  that  most  pragmatists  confuse  these  two  views  of  logical 
pragmatism,  and  waste  their  time  by  reiterating  the  accepted  state- 
ments that  truth  “makes  a difference ” 1 or  that  “ personal  atti- 
tudes and  responses  are  real,”  2 when  they  should  be  trying  to 
establish  the  entirely  different  conclusion  that  “the  conception  of 
effects  is  the  whole  of  our  conception  of  the  object.” 

Metaphysical  pragmatism  is  a consequence  of  logical  pragma- 
tism of  the  extreme  form,  and  will  stand  or  fall  with  it.  It  is  the 
doctrine  that  reality  is  to  be  defined  only  in  terms  of  progressively 
unfolding  experience  and  that  there  is,  therefore,  no  ‘absolute’  or 
‘complete’  reality.  It  is  pragmatism  of  this  sort  only  which  neces- 
sarily involves  pluralism. 

Critics  of  Pragmatism 

(Most  of  the  papers  cited  below  refer  specifically  to  the  articles  by  James, 
Dewey,  Moore,  and  Schiller  already  cited.) 

1904.  F.  H.  Bradley,  “On  Truth  and  Practice,”  Mind,  N.S.,  XIII. 

J.  Creighton,  “Purpose  as  a Logical  Category,”  Philos.  Review, 

XIII. 

J.  Royce,  “The  Eternal  and  the  Practical,”  Philos.  Review,  XIII. 
Charles  M.  Baicewell,  “Latter-Day  Flowing  Philosophy”  (a 
paper  in  University  of  California  “ Studies  in  Philosophy”). 
Charles  H.  Rieber,  “Pragmatism  and  the  A Priori ” (a  paper  in 
the  University  of  California  Studies). 

1905.  A.  E.  Taylor. 

“Truth  and  Practice,”  Philos.  Review,  XIV. 

1906.  “Truth  and  Consequences,”  Mind,  N.S.,  XV. 

1905.  H.  W.  B.  Joseph,  “Professor  James  on  ‘Humanism  and  Truth,’ ” 

Mind,  N.S.,  XIV. 

1906.  A.  K.  Rogers,  “Professor  James’s  Theory  of  Knowledge,”  Philos. 

Review,  XV. 

MONISTIC  PERSON ALISTS 

Rudolf  Hermann  Lotze  (1817-81). 

Important  Works  on  Metaphysics  : — 

1841.  “Metaphysik,”  Leipz. 

’Schiller,  op.  cit.,  1973. 

2 Dewey,  “Beliefs  and  Realities,”  Philos.  Review,  1906,  XV.,  p.  124. 


Monistic  Personalists 


56i 


1856-64.  “ Mikrokosmos.  Ideen  zur  Naturgeschichte  und  Geschichte  der 
Menschheit,”  3 vols.,  Leipz.,  4th  ed.,  1884-88 ; Engl.,  Edin.  and 
N.Y.,  1885-86. 

1879.  “System  der  Philosophic,”  3 Pts.,  2d  ed.,  1884;  Engl,  ed.,  Bosanquet, 
Parts  I.  and  II.,  “Logic,”  and  “Metaphysic,”  1884,  1887. 

1882.  “Grundziige  der  Religionsphilosophie,”  Leipz.,  3d  ed.,  1894;  Engl., 

G.  T.  Ladd,  Boston,  1885. 

1883.  “Grundziige  der  Metaphysik,”  Leipz.,  Engl.,  G.  T.  Ladd,  Boston, 

1884. 

Thomas  Hill  Green  (1836-82). 

(Green  is  the  first  of  the  English  neo-Hegelians.  He  teaches 
that  “the  unification  of  the  manifold  in  the  world  implies  the 
presence  of  the  manifold  to  a mind  for  which,  and  through  the 
action  of  which,  it  is  a related  whole.”) 

1874.  “Introductions”  to  Hume’s  “A  Treatise  of  Human  Nature,”  Lond. 
1883.  “Prolegomena  to  Ethics,”  ed.  A.  C.  Bradley,  Oxf. 

“Works,”  ed.  R.  L.  Nettleship,  3 vols.,  Lond.,  1885-88. 

JOSIAH  ROYCE. 

Most  Important  Works  on  Metaphysical  Subjects  : — 

1885.  “The  Religious  Aspect  of  Philosophy”  (especially  Chapter  n). 

1892.  “The  Spirit  of  Modern  Philosophy”  (especially  Lectures  X.— XIII.). 
1895.  “The  Conception  of  God,”  a discussion,  by  Professors  Royce,  Le 

Conte,  Howison,  Mezes,  2d  ed.,  with  Supplementary  Essay  by 
Royce,  N.Y.,  1897. 

The  World  and  the  Individual:  — 

1900.  First  Series,  “The  Four  Historical  Conceptions  of  Being.” 

1901.  Second  Series,  “Nature,  Man,  and  the  Moral  Order.” 

R.  B.  Haldane. 

1903-04.  “ The  Pathway  to  Reality,”  I.  and  II.  Gifford  Lectures. 

Other  neo-Hegelian  monistic  personalists  are  Edward  Caird,  William 
Wallace,  and  J.  H.  Stirling  (already  cited)  ; Bernard  Bosanquet,  Henry  Jones, 
and  D.  G.  Ritchie. 

( Upholders  of  the  Absolute-Experience  Doctrine) 

F.  H.  Bradley. 

1876.  “Ethical  Studies,”  Lond.  and  Edin. 

1883.  “The  Principles  of  Logic,”  Lond. 

1893.  “Appearance  and  Reality,”  Lond.;  2d  ed.,  1897. 

A.  E.  Taylor. 

1901.  “The  Problem  of  Conduct,”  Lond.  and  N.Y. 

1903.  “Elements  of  Metaphysics,”  Lond.  and  N.Y. 

Note:  The  Absolute  as  Experience 

The  position  of  Bradley  and  of  Taylor  is,  so  far  as  I understand 
it,  the  following:  (1)  They  are  numerical  monists,  teaching  that 

20 


562 


Contemporary  Philosophers 


ultimate  reality  is  an  Absolute  — not  a collection  or  a mere  society.1 
(2)  They  are  idealists,  and  indeed  spiritualistic  idealists,  denying 
the  existence  of  extra-mental  reality,  and  defining  ultimate  reality  as 
Absolute  Experience.2  On  the  other  hand,  they  refuse  to  describe 
the  Absolute  as  ‘self’  or  as  ‘personal.’3  Closely  scrutinized,  this 
divergence  from  the  teachings  of  ‘monistic  personalism’  seems  to 
me  to  be  purely  verbal.  The  ground  of  the  denial  of  the  Absolute’s 
selfhood  is  the  adoption  of  too  rigid  and  too  complicated  a defini- 
tion of  ‘self.’  In  the  sense  of  ‘unique,  inclusive,  and  conscious 
being,’  the  term  ‘self’  seems  indeed  to  mean  what  Bradley  and 
Taylor  mean  by  ‘Experience.’  When  Taylor  speaks  of  “a  super- 
human experience  to  which  the  whole  universe  is  directly  present”; 
and  when  he  says  that  “an  all-containing,  coherent  experience  . . . 
must  apprehend  its  contents  . . . must  be  aware  of  them  as  exhib- 
iting a structural  unity,”  4 he  attributes  to  Absolute  Experience 
precisely  the  characters  which  are  essential  to  an  Absolute  Self. 
And  when  Bradley  says,  “ the  Absolute  holds  all  possible  content  in 
an  individual  experience,”  5 6 * then  we  are  justified  in  concluding  with 
Royce  that  “ Bradley’s  Absolute  . . . escapes  from  selfhood  . . . 
only  by  remaining  to  the  end  a Self.”  8 


GENERAL  WORKS  ON  PHILOSOPHY 

I.  Introductions  to  Philosophy 

Kiilpe,  O.,  “Introduction  to  Philosophy,”  pp.  245;  transl.  Pillsbury  and 
Titchener,  Lond.  and  N.Y.,  1897,  from  the  German,  “Einleitung  in 
die  Philosophic,”  2d  ed.,  1898. 

‘A  short  account  of  the  development  and  present  status  of  philosophy,’ 
useful  for  brief  descriptions  of  current  schools  and  conceptions  of 
philosophy. 

1 Bradley,  “Appearance  and  Reality,”  Bk.  II.,  Chapters  13,  14,  20,  pp.  135 
seq.;  Taylor,  “ Elementsof  Metaphysics,”  Bk.  II.,  Chapter  2,  §§  4-5.  “TheAbso- 
lute,”  Bradley  says  (op.  cit.,  p.  144),  “is  not  many ; there  are  no  independent  reals.” 
“We  are  committed,”  Taylor  says,  “to  some  form  of  theory  of  the  type  generally 
known  as  Monism.”  The  name  monism  Taylor  eschews  because  of  its  mislead- 
ing associations. 

2 Bradley,  op.  cit.,  Bk.  II.,  Chapter  14,  pp.  144  seq.;  Taylor,  op.  cit.,  Bk.  II, 

Chapter  2,  §§  6-7,  pp.  97  seq.;  Bk.  IV,  Chapter  5,  § 7,  pp.  394  seq. 

z Bradley,  op.  cit.  Taylor,  op.  cit.,  Bk.  IV,  Chapter  3,  pp.  334  seq. 

* Op.  cit.,  Bk.  II,  Chapter  1,  pp.  60-61. 

6 Op.  cit.,  p.  1473. 

e“The  World  and  the  Individual,”  I,  pp.  550-552. 


General  Works  on  Philosophy 


563 


Ladd,  G.  T.,  “Introduction  to  Philosophy,”  N.Y.,  1891. 

Marvin,  W.  T.,  “An  Introduction  to  Philosophy,”  1903. 

Paulsen,  F.,  “Introduction  to  Philosophy,”  pp.  429,  transl  F.  Thilly,  N.Y., 
1895,  from  the  German,  “Einleitung  in  die  Philosophic,”  10th  ed.,  1903. 
A brilliantly  and  popularly  written  summary  and  discussion  of  (1)  the 
problem  of  metaphysics,  whether  ontological  or  cosmological  or  theo- 
logical, and  (2)  the  problem  of  epistemology. 

Perry,  Ralph  B.,  “The  Approach  to  Philosophy,”  pp.  448,  N.Y.,  1905. 

A book  which  aims  “to  introduce  the  general  standpoint  and  problem 
of  philosophy,  through  its  implication  in  practical  life,  poetry,  religion, 
and  science.” 

Rogers,  A.  K.,  “A  Brief  Introduction  to  Modern  Philosophy,”  pp.  360, 
N.Y.,  1899. 

Watson,  John,  “An  Outline  of  Philosophy  with  Notes  Historical  and  Critical,” 
pp.  483,  Glasgow  and  N.Y.,  1898. 

“ A work  which  tries  to  fix  the  main  outlines  of  a complete  system  of  phi- 
losophy,” under  the  following  heads:  “Philosophy  of  Nature,”  “Phi- 
losophy of  Mind,”  “Moral  Philosophy,”  “Philosophy  of  the  Absolute.” 

Other  ‘Introductions’  are  those  of  Dilthey  and  Eucken  (cited  by  Rand); 
of  G.  S.  Fullerton  (The  Macmillan  Co.,  1906);  and  of  A.  E.  Taylor  (“  Ele- 
ments of  Metaphysics  ”). 


II.  General  Histories  of  Philosophy 

Rogers,  A.  K.,  “A  Student’s  History  of  Philosophy,”  pp.  514,  N.Y.,  1901. 
An  attempt  “to  create  . . . broad,  general  impressions”  and  to  give 
“ the  thought  of  the  writers  in  their  own  words.” 

Weber,  A.,  “History  of  Philosophy,”  pp.  630;  trans.  F.  Thilly,  N.Y.,  from 
the  French. 

An  admirably  clear  and  concise  account  of  systems  of  philosophy 
in  their  development;  provided  with  full  references  and  bibliog- 
raphies. 

Windelband,  W.,  “A  History  of  Philosophy,”  pp.  640,  transl.  J.  H.  Tufts, 
N.Y.,  1893,  1901,  from  the  “Geschichte  der  Philosophie,”  1892. 

A topical  history  of  philosophy,  discussing  ‘ the  formation  and  develop- 
ment of  its  problems  and  conceptions  ’ (with  full  bibliographies). 
Turner,  W.,  “History  of  Philosophy,”  pp.  674,  Boston,  1903. 

Useful  for  its  unusually  long  and  careful  treatment  of  mediaeval 
philosophy. 

Erdmann,  J.  E.,  “History  of  Philosophy,”  3 vols.,  Lond.,  1890,  transl. 
W.  Hough  from  the  German,  “ Grundriss  der  Geschichte  der  Philoso- 
phie,” 4th  ed.,  Berlin,  1895. 

Ueberweg,  “History  of  Philosophy,”  3 vols.,  N.Y.,  1872-74,  and  1890, 
transl.  G.  S.  Morris,  from  German,  “Grundriss  der  Geschichte  der 
Philosophie.”  8th  Gennan  ed.,  enlarged  by  Heinze,  Berl.,  1894-98. 


564 


General  Works  on  P hilosophy 


III.  Histories  of  Modern  Philosophy 

Falckenberg,  R.,  “History  of  Modern  Philosophy,”  transl.  A.  C.  Armstrong, 
Lond.  and  N.Y.,  1893,  from  the  German,  “Die  Geschichte  der 
neueren  Philosophic,”  2d  ed.,  1892. 

Fischer,  Kuno,  “Geschichte  der  neueren  Philosophic,”  8 vols.  (Vol.  VII., 
on  Hegel,  not  completed),  1878  seq.;  4th  ed.,  1899  seq.;  Engl,  of  Vol.  I., 
1887. 

Hoffding,  H.,  “History  of  Modern  Philosophy,”  transl.,  Meyer,  2 vols.,  Lond*» 
1900. 


Supplement 


565 


SUPPLEMENT  TO  THE  BIBLIOGRAPHY 
(Names  which  occur  only  in  this  Supplement  are  not  included  in  the  Index.) 
Descartes. 

The  Philosophical  Works  of  Descartes,  ed.  E.  S.  Haldane  and  G.  R.  T. 
Ross,  1911. 

Baillet,  La  vie  de  M.  Descartes,  2 vols.,  Paris,  1691. 

Careil,  A.  Foucher  de,  De  la  Princesse  Elizabeth  et  la  Reine  Christine,  1879. 
Geulincx. 

Haeghen,  in  Zeitschrift  fiir  Philosophic  und  Philosophische  Kritik. 

Land,  J.  P.,  in  Mind,  1891,  O.  S.,  Vol.  XVI.,  pp.  223-242. 

Malebranche. 

G.  N.  Dolson,  in  Philosophical  Review,  1906,  XV.,  pp.  387-405. 

Spinoza. 

Boyle,  A.,  transl.,  “ ‘ Ethics  ’ and  ‘ On  the  Correction  of  the  Understand- 
ing.’ ” (Everyman  edition.) 

Erhardt,  F.,  “Die  Philosophic  des  Spinoza  im  Lichte  der  Kritik.”  1908. 
Rivaud,  A.,  “Les  notions  d’essence  et  d’existence  dans  la  philosophic  de 
Spinoza,”  1906. 

Leibniz. 

Cassirer,  E.,  “Leibniz’  System  in  wissenschaftlichen  Grundlagen,”  1902. 
The  Cambridge  Platonists. 

G.  Lyon,  “L’ldealisme  en  Angleterre,”  1888. 

A.  O.  Lovejoy,  “Kant  and  the  English  Platonists”  in  “Essays  in  Honor  of 
William  James,”  1908. 

Flora  I.  MacKinnon,  “The  Philosophy  of  John  Norris  of  Bemerton,” 
Baltimore,  1910. 

Berkeley. 

Lindsay,  A.  D.,  ed.,  “ ‘ A New  Theory  of  Vision,’  ‘ Principles  of  Human 
Knowledge,’  1 Three  Dialogues.’  ” (Everyman  edition.) 

Arthur  Collier. 

“Clavis  Universalis,”  edited,  with  Introduction  and  Notes,  by  Ethel 
Bowman,  Open  Court  Co.,  1909. 

The  Enlightenment. 

H.  J.  T.  Hettner,  “Litteraturgeschichte  des  18  Jahrhunderts,”  1872, 

1893-1894. 

J.  G.  Hibben,  “The  Philosophy  of  the  Enlightenment,”  1910. 

Karl  Rosenkranz,  “Diderot’s  Leben  und  Werke,”  1866. 

Kant. 

V.  Delbos,  “La  philosophie  pratique  de  Kant,”  1906. 

O.  Ewald,  “Kant’s  Kritischer  Idealismus,”  1908. 

L.  Goldsmidt,  “Kant’s  ‘Privatmeinungen’  iiber  das  Jenseits  und  die  Kant- 
ausgabe  der  koniglich  preussischen  Akademie,”  1905. 

C.  Sentroul,  “L’objet  de  la  metaphysique  selon  Kant  et  selon  Aristote,” 
Louvain,  1905. 

Opponents  of  Kant. 

“Abhandlungen  der  Fries’schen  Schule,”  Gott.,  1905. 


566 


Bibliography 


SCHELLING. 

O.  Braun,  “ Hinauf  zum  Idealismus;  Schellingstudien,”  1908.  (Cf.  Braun, 
Kinkel,  Korwan,  Schwarz  in  Zeitschrift  fur  Philosophic  und  philoso- 
phische  Kritik,  1907,  vol.  131.) 

Karl  Rozenkranz,  “ Schelling,”  1843. 

E.  Schertel,  “ Schelling’s  Metaphysik  der  Personlichkeit,”  1911. 

Hegel. 

“ The  Phenomenology  of  Spirit,”  trans.  by  J.  B.  Baillie,  1910.  (Cf.  trans- 
lation of  chapters  1-3  by  J.  Royce  in  Rand’s  “ Modern  Classical  Phi- 
losophers,” 1908.) 

“ Hegel’s  theologische  Jugendschriften,”  ed.  H.  Nahl,  Tubingen,  1907. 
“Die  Jugendschrifte  Hegel’s,”  ed.  W.  Dilthey,  Berlin,  1908. 

“ Entwiirfe  zu  Hegel’s  Encyklopadie  und  Propadeutik,”  ed.  J.  Lowenberg, 
Leipzig,  1912. 

B.  Croce,  transl.  by  K.  Buchler,  “Lebendiges  und  Totes  in  Hegel’s  Philo- 
sophic, 1909. 

J.  McT.  E.  McTaggart,  “A  Commentary  on  Hegel’s  Logic,”  1910. 
Contemporary  Systems. 

Monistic  Realism. 

Carveth  Read,  “ The  Metaphysics  of  Nature,”  1905. 

Neo-Realism. 

E.  A.  McGlLVARY,  “Consciousness  and  Object,”  Phil.  Review,  1912. 

R.  B.  Perry,  “Present  Philosophical  Tendencies,”  1912. 

“The  New  Realism,”  The  Macmillan  Co.,  1912. 

Pragmatism. 

F. C.S.  Schiller,  “ Formal  Logic,  a Scientific  and  Social  Problem,”  1912. 
Critics  of  Pragmatism. 

A.  O.  Lovejoy,  “ The  Thirteen  Pragmatisms,”  Journal  of  Philosophy , 

1907-1908. 

W.  P.  Montague,  “ May  a realist  be  a pragmatist?  ” ibid. 

J.  B.  Pratt,  “ What  is  Pragmatism?  ” 1909. 

Pluralistic  Personalism. 

James  Ward,  “ The  Realm  of  Ends,  or  Pluralism  and  Theism,”  1911. 
Monistic  Personalism. 

B.  Bosanquet,  “ The  Principle  of  Individuality  and  Value,”  1912.  (There 

are  also  indications  of  qualitative  pluralism  in  this  book.) 

R.  Eucken. 

1888.  “ Die  Einheit  des  Geisteslebens.” 

1890.  “ Die  Lebensanschauungen  der  grossen  Denker,”  sixth  edition, 
1905,  translated,  1908,  by  W.  Plough  and  W.  Boyce  Gibson, 
as  “The  Problem  of  Human  Life.” 

1896,  1907.  “ Der  Kampf  um  einen  geistigen  Lebensinhalt.” 

1907.  “ Grundlinien  einer  neuen  Lebensanschauung,”  translated,  1911,  by 
A.  G.  Widgery,  as  “ Life’s  Basis  and  Life’s  Ideal.” 

A.  T.  Ormond. 

1906.  “ Concepts  of  Philosophy.” 

Histories  of  Philosophy. 

A.  B.  D.  Alexander,  “ Short  Plistory  of  Philosophy,”  1910. 

H.  E.  Cushman,  “ A Beginner’s  History  of  Philosophy,”  Vol.  II.,  1911. 
O.  Siebert,  “ Geschichte  der  neueren  deutschen  Philosophie,”  1907. 


INDEX 


[The  names  of  editors  and  translators,  and  of  authors  merely  named  (not 
cited)  in  the  Bibliography,  are  not  included  in  the  Index.] 


Abbott,  T.  K.,  497. 

Absolute,  The,  Nature  of,  377  ff. 
et  al.;  all-inclusive,  321,  333,  375, 
378,  43s  f.;  Individual,  378  ff.,  419, 
286  fi.,  320  f.,  440;  arguments  for 
the  existence  of : Fichte’s  argument, 
316,  320  ff.;  Schelling’s  argument, 
331  ff.;  Hegel’s  argument,  418  f. 
See  Substance,  God. 

Absolute  Self,  Nature  of,  422  ff. 
et  al.;  according  to  Fichte,  321  f. ; 
all-inclusive,  233,  321,  375,  378,  433; 
active,  321;  self-limited,  320,  335; 
unique,  419;  conscious  in  all  ele- 
mentally distinct  ways,  423  ff., 
good,  430  ff. ; temporal  and  eternal, 
392,  441  ff. ; in  relation  to  the  partial 
selves,  435  ff-.  144  f-,  323.  379; 
argument  for  the  existence  of,  418  ff. ; 
Schopenhauer’s  attempted  argument, 
349  ff. ; Hegel’s  argument,  363  ff., 
392 ; objections  to  the  doctrine  of  the 
personality  of  the  Absolute,  317, 325  f., 
328  ff.,  33s;  to  the  doctrine  of  self  as 
absolute,  413,  421  f. 

Adamson,  R.,  5r2,  540,  555. 

Affects,  treated  by  Spinoza,  472,  474, 
480  f.;  classification  of,  475  ff. ; 
control  of,  479.  See  Emotions,  Pas- 
sions. 

Allen,  L.  W.,  378  n. 

Anselm,  St.  See  Ontological  Argu- 
ment. 

Anthropomorphism,  Spinoza’s  aversion 
to,  298. 

Antinomies,  of  Kant,  521  ff. 

A posteriori,  see  A priori. 

A priori,  Kant’s  use  of  term,  20T, 
205;  judgments,  224  f. ; time  and 
space  conceived  as,  517  ff.  (argu- 
ments criticized,  517  ff.). 

Argument  from  Design  for  the  Existence 


of  God:  formulated  by  Berkeley, 
137  f.  (criticized  142  f.);  criticized 
by  Kant  (as  physico-theological  argu- 
ment), 250  f. 

Aristotle,  Categories  of,  525  f. 

Armstrong,  A.  C.,  564. 

Arnold,  Matthew,  467,  480. 

Association  of  ideas,  183;  according 
to  Spinoza,  472. 

Attributes  of  Substance,  as  conceived 
by  Descartes,  40 ; by  Spinoza,  288  ff., 
294  ff. 

Auerbach,  B.,  468. 

Augustine,  St.,  24,  183. 

Avenarius,  R.,  467. 

Bacon,  Francis,  18,  458. 

Badness,  denied  to  Absolute  Self,  430. 

Baillie,  J.  B.,  348,  566. 

Bakewell,  C.  M.,  560. 

Baldwin,  J.  M.,  539. 

Baumeisler,  F.  C.  B.,  504. 

Baumgarten,  A.  G.,  504. 

Baxter,  A.,  494. 

Beattie.  James,  493. 

Beauty,  as  conceived  by  Hegel,  389  ; by 
Schiller,  334. 

Bentham,  J.,  503. 

Bergson,  H.,  407, 4T2,  441, 447  n.,  449,  338. 

Berkeley,  George,  System  of,  110-T48; 
reality  immediately  known,  myself 
and  my  ideas,  113  ff. ; external  things 
as  ideas,  ri8  ff.,  existence  of  inferred, 
material  reality  denied,  126  ff. 
(arguments  criticized,  129  ff.);  ex- 
istence of  infinite  spirit,  God,  134  ff., 
of  ether  created  spirits,  138,  of  world 
of  nature,  139  ff.  Criticism  of 
Berkeley’s  doctrine  of  God,  141  ff., 
of  his  theory  of  knowledge,  145  ff. 
Life,  495  f.  Bibliography,  497  f. 

BScher,  M.,  325  n. 


567 


568 


Index 


Body,  Nature  of,  according  to  Descartes, 
37;  to  Hobbes,  57  ff.,  66;  to  Leibniz, 
93  f. ; to  Hume,  1 71  f.  See  Corporeal 
Object,  External  Object,  Matter. 

Body  and  Soul.  See  Soul. 

Boehme,  J.,  459. 

Bondage,  Life  of,  478  f.  Cf.  Spinoza. 

Bosanquel,  Bernard,  411,  561,  566. 

Boscovich,  R.  J .,  130  n. 

Bouillier,  F.  H 463. 

Bradley,  F.  E.,  381  n.,  410  n.,  4:0  n., 

560,  561  f. 

Britan,  H.  H.,  466. 

Bruno,  Giordano,  18,  457  f. 

Brunschvicg,  L.,  467. 

Buchner,  C.  C.,  398,  401  n.,  536. 

Burthogge,  R.,  492. 

Busoll,  G.,  296  n.,  467. 

Butler,  Joseph,  503. 

Cabanis,  P.  J.  C.,  70. 

Caird,  E.,  224  n.,  411,  512,  527  n.,  548, 

561. 

Caird,  J.,  467,  502,  504,  510. 

Caldwell,  XV.,  535. 

Cambridge  Platonists,  The,  491  f. 

Camerer,  T.,  467. 

Campanella,  T.,  459. 

Canloni,  C.,  3 12. 

Careil,  A.  Foucher  de,  468,  486,  335,  363. 

Categorical  Imperative,  Kant’s,  258, 
263  fF.  See  Obligation,  Moral  law. 

Categories,  Aristotle's,  525  f.;  Kant's 
(‘scientific’  and ‘epistemological’),  204 
ff.,  525  ff. : subjective,  218,  necessary, 
220  ff.,  as  implying  a self,  227  f., 
320,  346;  Schelling's,  333  f. ; Scho- 
penhauer’s, 345  f.,  534  n.;  Hegel’s, 
525,  549  f.  Categories  of  totality, 
207  f.,  527;  comparison,  208  f., 
369  ff. ; causality,  210  ff.,  372  ff., 
554;  substance,  529  f. ; reciprocal 
connection,  217,  531  f. 

Causal  Argument  for  the  Existence  of 
God:  Descartes’s  argument  for  God 
as  cause  of  the  idea  of  God,  27,  ex- 
pounded, 28  ff.,  criticized,  47  ff. ; 
Descartes’s  argument  for  God  as 
cause  of  me,  27,  expounded,  30  ff., 
criticized,  49  ff. ; Hobbes’s  argu- 
ment for  God  as  First  Mover,  58; 
Leibniz’s  argument  for  God  as  Suf- 
ficient Reason,  expounded,  102  f., 


criticized,  104  f.;  Berkeley’s  argu- 
ment for  God  as  Cause  of  sense  ideas, 
expounded,  135  ff.,  criticized,  141  f., 
Kant’s  criticism  of  the  cosmological 
(causal)  argument,  248  ff. 

Causality,  Phenomenal  (connection 
of  events) : conceived  as  necessary 
connection,  by  Kant,  210  ff.,  by 
Spinoza,  288,  300  f.;  by  Schopen- 
hauer, 345;  by  Hegel,  372  f. ; con- 
ceived as  merely  customary  conjunc- 
tion by  Hume,  155  ff. ; conceived  as 
relation  of  psychical  to  physical, 
42  et  al.;  conceived  as  mental  transi- 
tion, 163  ff.,  212  ff.  (see  Necessary 
Connection).  More-than-phenome- 
nal  Causality  (cause  conceived  as 
ground,  51  n.,  103  n.):  Kant’s 

noumenal  causality  of  the  moral  self, 
249,  259  ff. ; Spinoza’s  immanent  cau- 
sality of  God,  299  f.  Causality  dis- 
cussed without  reference  to  these  two 
forms,  by  Descartes,  27  f.,  51  n. 
(conception  criticized,  48  f.),  by 
Hobbes,  61 ; by  Leibniz,  102  ff. 

Causal  Law,  447. 

Clarke,  Samuel,  468,  503. 

Clifford,  XV.  K.,  185  n.,  237  n.,  405  n. 

Cognition,  treated  by  Spinoza,  471  f. 

Colcrus,  J.,  468. 

Collier,  Arthur , 498,  563. 

Collins,  Anthony,  503. 

Comte,  Auguste,  406,  556. 

Concept,  Kant’s  use  of  term,  532  n. 

Condillac,  E.  B.  de,  505. 

Consciousness,  386,  440;  analysis  of, 
408  ff. ; forms  of,  423  ff.,  435  n.; 
as  implying  God,  252,  436;  as  imply- 
ing a self,  20  f.,  43,  90,  1 13  f.,  189  f., 
409;  conceived  as  one  of  two  attri- 
butes of  all  reality  by  Descartes,  40, 
as  form  of  motion  by  Hobbes,  63  ff., 
as  form  of  energy  by  materialists, 
133,  399  ff.,  as  manifestation  of  un- 
known reality  by  monistic  realists, 
402  f.,  as  complex  of  elements,  by 
phenomenalists,  405,  as  subject  of 
ideas  by  personalists,  407;  of 
monads,  92  ff. ; sensational  (see  Sen- 
sational Consciousness) ; affective, 
1 51,  r 88,  441  f.  (see  Emotions);  as 
attributed  to  the  Absolute  Self,  427  f. ; 
relationel,  418  f.,  441  f.,  denied  by 


Index 


569 


Hume,  1 S3,  accepted  by  Kant,  199, 
210,  220  f.  ( see  Categories);  as  attri- 
buted to  the  Absolute  Self,  422  ff. 
et  al.;  of  obligation,  257  £1.,  314  ff., 
328,  336>  353.  449  ff-.  455;  Spinoza’s 
classification  of,  471  ff. 

Corporeal  Object,  Nature  of,  accord- 
ing to  Descartes,  36  f.  See  External 
Object,  Body,  Matter. 

Cosmological  argument  for  the  Exist- 
ence of  God.  See  Causal  Argument. 

Couturat , L.,  224  n.,  225  n.,  486,  523  n., 
52S  n. 

Creighton,  J.,  560. 

Cudworlh,  R.,  491. 

Cumberland,  R.,  502. 

D’ Alembert,  J.  le  R.,  406,  505. 

Darwin,  Erasmus,  337. 

Davidson,  T.,  542. 

Dedekind,  R.,  323  n. 

Degree,  Category  of,  208  f. 

Descartes,  Rene,  System  of,  21-55; 
preparation  for  philosophy,  doubt, 
21  f. ; existence  oj  myself,  23  ff.,  43  f. ; 
existence  of  God,  25  ff.,  44  ff. ; argued, 
28  ff.  (arguments  criticized,  44  ff.); 
existence  of  corporeal  things,  argued, 
34  ff.  (doctrine  criticized,  53  ff.); 
spirits  and  bodies,  as  substances, 
39  ff.,  as  distinct  yet  related,  41  ff. 
(doctrine  criticized,  54  f.).  Life,  19  f., 
459  ff. ; Bibliography,  462  f. 

Desire  ( cupiditas ),  treated  by  Spinoza, 
474  f- 

Determinism,  first  stage  of  philosophic 
thought  with  Fichte,  309,  31 1 f. ; 
Spinoza’s,  478,  480;  scientific,  447. 

Dewey,  John,  4x2,  486,  558,  560  n. 

Dialectic,  of  Kant,  515  ff. ; of  Hegel,  368. 

Diderot,  Denis,  197,  505. 

Dillman,  E.,  486. 

Dilthey,  W.,  506,  563,  566. 

Doubt,  as  preparation  for  philoso- 
phy, 21  f.,  as  implying  the  existence 
of  a doubter:  doctrine  expounded, 
23  ff.,  criticized,  43,  by  Hume, 
182. 

Dualism,  the  usual  form  of  qualita- 
tive pluralism,  17  n.;  of  Descartes, 
17  ff.;  of  Locke,  111  f. ; of  Wolff, 
195  ff- 

Duty,  nature  of,  455;  as  implying  im- 


mortality, 455;  emphasized  by  Kant, 
263  ff.  See  Obligation,  Categorical 
Imperative. 

Ebbinghaus,  H.,  295  n. 

Effect,  see  Causality. 

Ego  and  Non-Ego,  see  Self. 

Elkin , W.  B.,  158  n.,  190,  501. 

Emotions,  427,  442;  as  treated  by 
Hume,  151,  184,  by  Spinoza,  273  ff., 
473  ff.,  480;  as  attributed  to  the 
Absolute  Self,  427  f. ; more-than- 
temporal  consciousness,  442.  See 
Passions,  Affects. 

Endeavor  ( conatus ),  discussed  by  Spi- 
noza, 475. 

Enlightenment,  The,  492,  504. 

Epistemology,  of  Spinoza,  469  ff.  See 
Knowledge. 

Erdmann,  Benno,  215  n.,  367  n.,  502, 
510,  511,  512,  529  n.,  530  n. 

Erdmann,  J.  E.,  296  n.,  379  n.,  468, 
486,  487,  563. 

Error,  conceived  as  abuse  of  freedom  by 
Descartes,  54  n. 

Eternal,  The,  444  f.;  and  temporal, 
442  ff.  See  More-than-temporal. 

Ethics,  ot  Hobbes,  69,  489;  of  Hume, 
188;  of  Kant,  256  ff.,  264  ff. ; of 
Spinoza,  305,  478  ff. ; of  Fichte, 
314  f. ; of  Schelling,  336;  of  Scho- 
penhauer, 351  ff.;  of  Nietsche,  357  f., 
555  n.;  British  writers  on,  502  f. 

Eucken,  R.,  407,  441,  449,  486,  563,  566. 

Everett,  C.  C.,  317  n.,  540. 

Evil,  Attitude  towards,  of  Leibniz,  106; 
Existence  of,  reconcilable  with  good- 
ness of  the  Absolute  Self,  142  f., 
43 1 ff- 

Experience,  Use  of  term  by  Royce, 
435  n.;  as  absolute,  with  Bradley 
and  Taylor,  561  f. 

Extension,  conceived  as  attribute  of 
body  by  Descartes  and  Hobbes,  37  f., 
75;  as  manifestation  of  a force,  by 
Leibniz,  76,  99;  as  idea  in  the  mind, 
by  Berkeley,  121  ff. ; as  ‘attribute,’ 
by  Spinoza,  289  f.,  296.  See  Quali- 
ties. 

External  Object.  ( See  Body,  Corpo- 
real Object,  Matter,  External 
Thing)  conceived  as  independent  of 
consciousness : extended,  36  ff.,  60 


57° 


Index 


without  ‘secondary  qualities,’  37, 
112;  inferred  to  exist,  from  the 
veracity  of  God,  34  f.  (argument 
criticized,  53,  172),  from  the  inevi- 
tableness of  perception,  35  (argument 
criticized,  126  fi.,) ; conceived  as 

‘ideal' : by  Berkeley,  118  flf .,  by  Kant, 
218  ff.,  by  Schopenhauer,  34s  ff. ; 
as  God’s  idea,  136  ff. ; as  simple 
monad,  93  ff. ; Existence  of,  denied 
by  Hume,  17 1 ff.  See  Body,  Matter. 

Faith,  as  opposed  to  knowledge,  by  Kant, 
270,  by  Fichte,  314,  by  Jacobi,  535. 

Falckenberg,  R.,  564. 

Fichte,  Johann  Gottlieb,  System  of,  308- 
330;  his  ‘popular  philosophy,’  310  ff., 
culminating  in  ethical  idealism, 
314  ff. ; his  technical  philosophy, 
318  ff. : the  universe  of  related  self 
and  not-self,  318  ff.,  implying  the 
existence  of  the  Absolute,  320,  which 
is  Self,  321  ff.,  but  impersonal,  325  ff. 
(doctrine  criticized,  328  ff.).  Life, 
309  f.,  536  f.  Bibliography,  538  ff. 

Finite  Spirit,  use  of  term,  34  n. 

Fischer,  A'. ,94  n.,342  n.,  463, 487,  543,  564. 

Flournoy,  T.,  410. 

Force,  conceived  as  spiritual,  by 
Leibniz,  76  ff.,  99;  as  will  by  Schopen- 
hauer, 350  f. 

Formal,  Descartes’s  use  of  term,  29  n. 

Forms  of  Perception,  201. 

Fraser,  A.  C.,  493,  497. 

Freedom,  of  finite  Self,  conceived  as 
source  of  error  by  Descartes,  54  n., 
as  character  of  rational  monads  by 
Leibniz,  90  ff.,  as  postulate  of  moral 
consciousness  by  Kant,  271,  as  com- 
patible with  the  existence  of  the 
absolute  self,  446  ff. ; denied  by 
Schopenhauer,  353 ; of  God,  denied 
by  Spinoza,  292  f. ; life  of,  accord- 
ing to  Spinoza,  478  ff. 

French  Materialists,  504  f. 

Freudenlhal,  J .,  465  n.,  468. 

Friederichs,  F.,  498. 

Fries,  J.  G.,  536,  565. 

Froude,  J.  A.,  467.  [557,  563. 

Fulierton,  G.  S.,  185,  400,  403  n.,  467, 

Galvani,  L.,  337. 

Gerhardt,  C.  J .,  486. 


Geulincx,  A.,  71  f.,  463. 

Gizycki,  G.  v.,  501. 

God,  Nature  of,  according  to  Des- 
cartes, 25,  28,  33  f.,  40,  to  Hobbes, 
58,  to  Leibniz,  79  ff.,  105,  to  Berkeley, 
134  ff.,  to  Spinoza,  282  ff , 287  ff., 
to  Hegel,  382  ff. ; as  spirit,  134  ff., 

382  ff. ; as  body,  58;  perfect  (com- 

plete), 105  f. ; good,  105  f. ; postu- 
lated by  Kant,  269  ff.  Arguments 
for  existence  of  God  ( q.v .) : Onto- 

logical, Causal,  Argument  from 
Design.  See  Absolute  Self,  Sub- 
stance. 

Goethe,  280,  337. 

Goodness,  as  conceived  by  Hegel,  389; 
by  Spinoza,  478  f. ; as  attributed  to 
the  Absolute  Self,  430  f. ; recon- 
cilable with  the  existence  of  evil, 
43i  ff- 

Green,  T.  H.,  561,  411,  512. 

Guhrauer,  G.  E.,  487. 

Gwinner,  W .,  555. 

Haeckel,  Ernst,  Materialism  of,  556, 
398  ff. 

Haldane,  R.  B.,  4 n.,  554,  555,  561. 

Haldane,  E.  S.,  463,  565. 

Hamann,  J.  G.,  536. 

Harris,  W.  T.,  547,  548. 

Harrison,  F.,  556. 

Hartley,  D.,  70,  492. 

Hartmann,  C.  E.  von,  337,  557. 

Haym,  R.,  543,  548. 

Hegel,  G.  W.  F.,  System  of,  360-394: 
method,  367  f.,  550;  ultimate  reality, 
neither  undetermined  nor  unknow- 
able, argued,  365  ff.  ; ultimate  reality 
as  totality,  369  ff.  (criticized,  373  f.) ; 
as  Individual,  argued,  375  ff.  (argu- 
ment criticized,  380) ; ultimate  reality 
as  Spirit  or  Person,  not  mere  Life, 

383  ff.,  nor  totality  of  selves,  385  ff. 
Order  of  categories,  S49  ff.  Treat- 
ment of  history,  390  ff.,  of  religion, 
392  ff.  Life,  543  ff.  Bibliography, 
545  ff.,  566. 

Heine,  H.,  253,  507. 

Helvetius,  C.  A.,  505. 

Herbart,  J.  F.,  245,  535. 

Herder,  J.  G.  von.,  9,  280,  337,  468,  506, 
507  f.,  536. 

Hibben,  J . G.,  548,  565. 


Index 


57i 


Highest  Good,  The,  as  implying  God, 
269  ff. ; as  knowledge  of  God,  482. 
See  Obligation. 

History,  relation  to  philosophy,  390  ff. 

Hobbes,  Thomas,  System  of,  56-70; 
doctrine  of  bodies,  60  ff. ; argued, 
62  ff. ; (doctrine  criticized,  64  ff.) ; 
doctrine  of  God,  58  f. ; Ethics,  69 ; 
Life,  485  ff.  Bibliography,  490  f. 

Hoffding,  H.,  564. 

Holbach,  F.  H.  D.  von,  70,  399,  505. 

Howison,  G.,  378,  407,  412,  413,  414  f., 
422  n.,  558. 

Humanists,  506. 

Hume,  David,  System,  149-192 ; deri- 
vation of  idea  from  impression,  150  f. ; 
doctrine  of  causality,  153  f.,  as  cus- 
tomary connection  (arguments,  155 
ff.,  estimate  and  criticism,  158  ff., 
161  n.),  as  ‘determination  of  the 
mind’  (arguments  and  criticism, 
163  ff.,  doctrine  criticized  by  Kant, 
210  ff.) ; doctrine  of  external  objects, 
not  known  by  senses,  171  ff.,  nor  by 
reason,  173  ff.  (criticism,  176  ff.) ; 
doctrine  of  self,  existence  denied, 
179  ff.  (criticism,  183  ff. ; by  Kant, 
226  ff.);  doctrine  of  God,  igo  f. 
Life,  498  ff.  Bibliography. 

Huntington,  E.  V.,  523  n. 

Hutcheson,  F.,  502. 

Huxley,  T.  H.,  190  n.,  463,  499  n., 
500  n.,  501. 

I,  see  Self. 

Idea,  Ideae,  according  to  Spinoza,  472. 

Idealism,  defined,  10;  forms  of,  Spir- 
itualism and  Phenomenalism  (q.v.), 
Kant’s  “Refutation  of  Idealism,” 
533- 

Ideas,  as  implying  a ‘self,’  114  ff. ; 
conceived  as  objects  of  knowledge  by 
Berkeley,  114  ff.,  15c  n.,  as  copies  of 
impressions  by  Hume,  150  ff.,  151  n.; 
according  to  Spinoza,  470  n. 

Identity,  law  of,  222  n.;  consciousness 
of,  227  n.,  318,  442 ; Schelling’s 
Absolute  as,  339  ff. 

Imagination,  as  attributed  to  the  Ab- 
solute Self,  425 ; as  treated  by  Spinoza, 
47i  f- 

Immediate,  use  of  term,  409. 

Immortality,  of  the  partial  self,  453  ff. ; 


maintained  by  Berkeley,  117;  pos- 
tulated by  Kant,  266  f.,  271 ; doc- 
trine of,  as  affected  by  monistic, 
personal  idealism,  453  ff. 

Impressions,  conceived  as  source  of 
ideas  by  Hume,  150  ff.,  181. 

Individuality,  Absolute,  408,  438; 

according  to  Hegel,  378  ff. ; to 
monistic  personalists,  419  f. ; human, 
nature  of,  437  ff.,  as  reconcilable 
with  the  existence  of  an  all-inclusive 
Absolute  Self,  437  ff. ; identified  with 
will  and  purpose  by  Taylor  and  Royce, 
438  n. 

Infinity,  as  discussed  in  Kant’s  anti- 
nomies, 523;  modern  conception  of, 
523  n. ; as  mere  endlessness,  441  n. ; 
of  Spinoza’s  attributes,  288  f.,  294  f. 
Intellect,  according  to  Spinoza : in- 
finite, 292,  finite,  292 ; of  God,  de- 
nied, 290  f.,  invalidity  of  this  distinc- 
tion, 298  and  n. 

Intuitionists,  British,  502. 

Jacobi,  F.H.,  535  f.,  94  n.,  290  n.,  468,  501. 

James,  IT.,  5,  48  n.,  96  n.,  207  n.,  222  n., 
412,  419  n.,  558  f. 

Janet,  P.,  409. 

Joachim,  H.,  467,  473  n. 

Jodi,  F.,  502. 

Jones,  H.,  561. 

Joseph,  H.  IT.  B..  560. 

Judgments,  Kant’s  distinctions  between 
analytic  and  synthetic,  223  ff.,  be- 
tween a priori  and  a posteriori,  224  f. ; 
as  basis  of  categories,  529  f. 

Kafka,  G.,  407. 

Kant,  Immanuel,  System  of,  195-273: 
the  known  object  as  spatial  and  tem- 
poral, 200  ff.,  516  ff.,  as  related 
(categorized),  204  ff.,  525  ff . ; the 
self,  argued,  226  ff.;  as  transcen- 
dental and  empirical,  229  ff.,  241  ff., 
259  f. ; as  subject  and  object,  234  ff. ; 
as  unknown,  241  ff.,  yet  known  in  the 
moral  consciousness,  256  ff. : things- 
in-themselves,  as  unknown,  236  ff.,  yet 
as  noumena,  254  f. ; God  as  unproved, 
247  ff.,  yet  as  postulated,  269  ff.  Life, 
507  ff.  Bibliography,  509  ff.  Out- 
line of  ‘ Kritik  of  Pure  Reason,' 
513  ff.  See  Antinomy,  Categories. 


572 


Index 


Kantians,  The,  534  f. 

Kcdncy,  J.  S.,  548. 

Klaiber,  J.,  845. 

Knowledge,  Berkeley’s  theory  of,  114  f. 
(criticized,  145  ff.) ; Hume’s  impres- 
sion test  of,  152,  163  ff.,  180;  Kant’s 
restriction  of,  239,  243,  256,  271  ; 
Fichte’s  theory  of,  314;  Spinoza’s 
conception  of,  as  intuitive,  473,  as 
adequate,  482 ; as  opposed  to  faith 
by  Kant,  270,  by  Fichte,  314,  by 
Jacobi,  535. 

Knuizen,  M 504. 

Kostlin,  K.,  549. 

“Kritik  of  Pure  Reason,”  Kant’s,  513  ff. 

Kiilpe,  O.,  124  n.,  401  n.,  562. 

Ladd,  G.  T.,  412  n.,  563. 

La  Meltrie,  J.  O.  de,  70,  398,  503. 

Lavoisier,  337. 

Law  of  Contradiction,  222  n. 

Lee,  H.,  494. 

Leibniz,  Gottfried  Wilhelm  von,  71-109: 
System,  74  ff. : many  immaterial 

monads,  75  f.  (criticism,  98  f.) ; su- 
preme monad,  God,  79  f.  (criticism,  100 
f.) ; finite  or  created  monads,  80  ff. 
(criticism,  107  f.) ; characters  com- 
mon to  finite  monads,  80  ff.  Life, 
7 3,  483  f.  Bibliography,  485  f.  See 
Monad,  Preestablished  Harmony. 

Lessing,  G.  E.,  279  f.,  337,  506. 

Levy-Bruhl,  L.,  463. 

Lewes,  G.  H.,  556. 

Life,  as  central  conception  of  Schel- 
ling’s  philosophy  of  nature,  336  ff., 
383 ; not  ultimate  reality,  according 
to  Hegel,  383  ff. 

Litlre,  M.  P.,  556. 

Locke,  John,  System  of,  hi  f.  Life, 
492  f.  Bibliography,  493  f. 

Loeb,  J .,  384. 

Lotze,  R.  H.,  486,  560  f. 

Lcrwe,  J . H.,  540. 

Mach,  Ernst,  Phenomenalism  of,  405  ff., 
557- 

MacLennan,  S.  F.,  412,  559. 

McGilvary,  E.  A.,  557,  565. 

McIntyre,  J.  L.,  458. 

McTaggart,  J.  McT.  E.,  378  and  n., 
379  n.,  381  n.,  385  n.,  392  n.,  412, 
416  f.,  454,  548,  558,  566. 


Magnitude,  see  Space. 

Mahaffy,  J.  P .,  463. 

Malebranche,  Nicolas,  71  f.,  145  n. 

Mandeville,  B.  de,  502. 

Martineau,  H.,  556. 

Marvin,  W.  T.,  557,  563. 

Materialism,  a form  of  qualitative 
monism,  defined,  10;  taught  by 
Hobbes,  56  ff.,  by  nineteenth  cen- 
tury materialists,  132  ff.,  398  ff.,  536, 
by  French  materialists,  304  f.,  by 
German  materialists,  556 ; criticized 
by  Berkeley,  126  ff. 

Mathematics,  as  related  to  philosophy, 
281 ; as  influencing  Descartes,  460  f., 
Hobbes,  487,  Spinoza,  280  f. 

Matter,  physical  reality,  independent 
of  mind,  inferred  to  exist,  57,  126  ff., 
398  ff.  (conception  criticized,  126  ff., 
173  ff.).  Conceived  by  Berkeley  as 
equivalent  to  non-ideal  reality,  126  ff. 

Meinong,  A.,  502. 

Memory,  contrasted  with  experience  by 
Royce,  446  n. ; discussed  by  Spinoza, 
472. 

Mendelssohn,  M.,  468. 

Metaphysics,  a synonym  for  Philos- 
ophy ( q.v .)  in  the  narrow  sense  of 
that  term,  as  misconceived  by  modern 
phenomenalists,  410. 

Mill,  J.  S.,  227  n.,  498,  356. 

Mind  (human),  power  of,  over  body, 
166  f.,  over  ideas,  133  f.,  143  f.,  168  f., 
186;  conceived  as  ‘bundle  of  percep- 
tions’ by  Hume,  183,  as  subject  of  con- 
sciousness (469  f.,  287,  297),  and  sum  of 
ideas  by  Spinoza,  470  f.  See  Self. 

Modality,  Categories  of,  331  ff. 

Modern  Philosophy,  characters  of,  17  f. ; 
forerunners  of,  18,  457  f. 

Modes,  Spinoza’s  doctrine  of,  286  ff., 
2g7,  299  ff. ; infinite,  468  f. 

Moleschott,  J.,  398,  336. 

Moleswortli,  W .,  57  n.,  491. 

Monads,  Leibniz's  doctrine  of,  74  ff., 
criticized,  100  ff. 

Monism,  Numerical,  defined,  9 : of 

Spinoza,  277  ff . ; of  the  post-Kantian 
idealists,  307  ff.,  of  Schopenhauer, 
343  ff.,  of  Hegel,  360  ff. ; of  Lotze, 
560  f. ; contemporary,  417  ff. ; Qual- 
itative, defined,  9,  57,  forms  of, 

Idealism,  and  Non-idealism  (q.v.). 


Index 


573 


Monistic  Realism,  of  Schelling,  330  S.; 
of  Herbert  Spencer  and  others,  401  ff., 
557 ; doctrine  criticized,  403. 

Montague,  W.  P.,  399,  556,  566. 

Montuori,  R.,  491. 

Moore,  A.  W .,  412,  494,  559. 

Moore,  G.  E.,  403  n,  404  n,  557. 

Moral  Consciousness,  see  Obligation. 

Moral  Law,  discussed  by  Kant,  257  ff., 
formulated,  263  f. ; discussed  by 
Fichte,  316,  by  Schelling,  336.  See 
Ethics,  Categorical  Imperative,  Ob- 
ligation. 

Moral  Philosophy,  see  Ethics. 

More,  H.,  491. 

More  - than  - temporal  consciousness, 

442  f. 

Morley,  J.,  506. 

Morris,  G.  S..  512,  548,  563. 

Motion,  conceived  as  attribute  of  body 
by  Hobbes,  60  ff.,  67  f. ; as  form  of 
extention  by  Descartes,  75  n.3 ; as 
manifestation  of  a force  by  Leibniz, 
76,  99;  as  idea  in  the  mind  by  Berke- 
ley, 121  ff.  See  Qualities. 

Muller,  G.  E.,  372  n. 

Munk,  H.,  398. 

Miinsterberg,  E.,  359  n. 

Myself,  see  Self. 

Natura  Naturans,  and  Natura  Natu- 
rata,  Spinoza’s  doctrine  of,  300. 

Naturalism,  see  Materialism. 

Nature,  world  of,  as  conceived  by  Berke- 
ley,  137,  139  ff.;  by  Schelling,  336  ff. ; 
by  the  absolutist,  455  f. 

Necessary  Connection,  temporal, 
denied  by  Hume,  157  ff. ; success- 
fully proved  by  Kant,  210  ff. ; 
causal,  involving  uniformity  of  recur- 
ring effect : denied  by  Hume  (argu- 
ments, 159  ff. ; estimate,  213  ff.) ; 
asserted  by  Kant  (arguments,  213  ff., 
estimate,  216). 

Necessity  (A  Priority),  logical,  or 
analytic,  91,  157  f.,  201,  205  f.,  221  f. ; 
synthetic,  asserted  by  Kant  (concep- 
tion criticized,  220  ff.) ; temporal,  and 
causal  ( see  Necessary  Connection) ; 
usually  synonymous  with  univer- 
sality, 221  n. ; according  to  Kant, 
never  predicated  of  the  sensational, 
202,  221  (conception  criticized,  222  f.). 


Newton,  L.,  203  n.,  52g  n. 

Nietsche,  F.  W.,  357  f.,  555  n. 

Nod,  G.,  548. 

Non-idealism,  defined,  10;  forms  of,  Ma- 
terialism and  Monastic  Realism  (q.v.). 

Norris,  J.,  145  n.,  492  f.,  494. 

Notion,  as  conceived  by  Berkeley,  114  L, 
145- 

Noumena,  see  Things-in-themselves. 

Novalis  ( von  Hardenberg),  n,  543. 

Num,  T.  P.,  557. 

Object,  see  Self  and  External  Object. 

Object  in  Space,  as  treated  by  Kant, 
231  ff-,  533- 

Objective,  Descartes’s  use  of  the  term, 
2g  n. ; Kant’s  use,  201  n.,  214  f. 

Obligation,  Kant's  doctrine  of,  as  fact, 
257  f.,  262 ; as  distinct  from  desire, 
258,  263  n.,  as  inexplicable,  258  f.; 
as  implying  real  self,  259  f.,  society 
of  selves,  269  ff.,  freedom,  265  f., 
449  ff.,  immortality,  266  L,  455 ; 
highest  good,  267  ff. ; Fichte’s  doc- 
trine of,  314  f.,  as  implying  eternal 
world,  315 ; Schelling' s doctrine  of, 
336;  Schopenhauer’s  doctrine  of,  353. 

Occasionalists,  The,  463  ff. 

Oesterreich,  K.,  410. 

Ontological  Argument  for  the  Existence 
of  God,  formulated  by  Anselm,  26, 
247,  415,  by  Descartes,  26  f.  (argu- 
ments criticized,  44  ff.),  by  Leibniz, 
100  ff. ; criticized  by  Kant,  247  ff. ; 
modified  by  Hegel,  247  n.,  392 ; 
restated  by  Howison,  414  f. 

Opinion,  as  conceived  by  Spinoza,  471  f. 

Organism,  as  treated  by  Schelling,  338, 
by  Hegel,  383  ff. 

Ostwald,  W .,  130,  3gg,  401,  556. 

Oswald,  J.,  495. 

Other  selves,  see  Self. 

Pain,  as  attributed  to  the  Absolute  Self, 
444- 

Paley,  W .,  503. 

Pantheism,  337. 

Parallelism  of  the  modes,  taught  by 
Spinoza,  295  ff.,  302  ff.,  470  f.,  474. 

Passions,  Hume’s  doctrine  of,  188;  of 
God,  denied  by  Spinoza,  292.  See 
Emotions,  Affects. 

Paulsen,  F.,  5,  6,  224  n.,  512,  534  n.,  563. 


574 


Index 


Pearson,  K.,  142  n. ; phenomenalism  of, 
405  ff.,  558. 

Peirce,  C.  S.,  559  and  n. 

Perry,  R.  B.,  557,  563.  566. 

Perception,  423  f.,  42s  n. ; according  to 
Leibniz,  90,  92,  to  Hume,  150  ff., 
179,  1 80,  183  f.,  to  Spinoza,  472;  as 
attributed  to  the  Absolute  Self,  423  ff. 

Person,  see  Self. 

Personal  Identity,  according  to  Hume, 
187  f. 

Personalism,  406  n.,  see  Spiritualism. 

Personality,  330, 335,  413 ; emphasized  by 
Leibniz,  108  f. ; of  the  Absolute  Self, 
437 ; denied  to  the  Absolute  by  Fichte, 
317,  325  ff.,  328  ff.,  by  Schelling,  335. 

Pessimism,  Schopenhauer’s,  352  ff., 
356  ff.,  553 ; Nietsche’s,  357  f.,  SSS  n. 

Phenomena,  opposed  to  things-in-them- 
selves,  237,  243,  366. 

Phenomenalistic  Idealism,  defined,  10 ; 
taught  by  Hume,  149  ff.,  by  Mach 
and  Pearson,  404  ff.,  557  ff. ; attacked 
by  Kant,  ig8  ff. 

Philosophy,  nature;  distinguished  from 
insight,  3,  from  science,  3 f. ; ap- 
proach, by  natural  science,  6,  by 
text-study,  7 f. ; types:  numerically 
monistic  or  pluralistic,  9 ; idealistic  or 
non-idealistic,  10 ; phenomenalistic 
or  spiritualistic,  10:  value,  11  ff. ; 

as  conceived  by  Hegel,  309.  in  rela- 
tion to  history,  390  ff.,  in  relation  to 
religion,  392  ff. 

Physico-theological  Argument,  see  Ar- 
gument from  Design. 

Plato,  3,  183,  341,  397,  443. 

Plilt,  G.  L.,  542. 

Pluralism,  Numerical,  9 : of  Descartes, 
17  ff.,  of  Hobbes,  56  ff.,  of  Leibniz, 
71  ff.,  of  Berkeley,  no  ff.,  of  Hume, 
149  ff.,  of  contemporary  philosophers, 
41 1 ff. ; Qualitative,  9:  of  Spinoza, 
277  ff.  See  Dualism. 

Poets,  as  philosophers,  342. 

Politics,  of  Hobbes,  69. 

Polilz,  K.  H.  L.,  sir. 

Pollock,  F.,  281  n.,  464  n.,  467. 

Positivism,  406. 

Positivists,  556. 

Post-Kantians,  The,  536  ff. 

Postulates,  of  practical  reason,  as  con- 
ceived by  Kant,  271. 


Power,  conceived  as  ‘determination  of 
mind,’  by  Hume,  163  f.,  166  ff. 

Pragmatism,  559  f.,  412,  429;  upholders 
of,  SS7  ff. ; critics  of,  560. 

Preestablished  harmony  of  monads,  as 
taught  by  Leibniz,  87  ff. 

Priestley,  J.,  70,  492. 

Prince,  M.,  237,  410. 

Principle  of  Contradiction,  102. 

Principle  of  Sufficient  Reason,  102  L, 
345- 

Principle  of  Uniformity,  448. 

P roast,  J.,  494. 

Propositions,  Kant’s  table  of,  527  n. 

Psychology,  as  science  of  conscious 
selves,  408  n. ; of  Spinoza,  469  ff. 
See  Emotions,  Experience,  Imagina- 
tion, etc. 

Qualities,  primary  and  secondary,  as 
conceived  by  Descartes  and  Locke, 
37  f.,  1 12;  distinction  denied  by 
Berkeley,  121  f. ; by  Hume,  173. 

Quality,  Categories  of,  528,  530. 

Quantity,  Categories  of,  527  f-,  55°- 

Rashdall,  H.,  412,  414  ff.,  421  f.,  436, 
558. 

Rationalism,  of  Leibniz,  196;  of  Wolff, 
196. 

Rationalistic  Dualists,  504. 

Realism,  see  Monistic  Realism. 

Reason,  truths  of,  91,  102  ff.;  as  con- 
ceived by  Spinoza,  472,  482.  See 
PP-  135.  173  ff-.  27°  f- 

Reciprocal  Connection,  Kant’s  cate- 
gory of,  217,  531;  Fichte’s  treatment 
of,  319  n. 

Recognition,  its  implication,  226  f. 

Reid,  Thomas,  494. 

Reinhold,  K.  L.,  534. 

Relation,  Categories  of,  528  ff. 

Relations  (see  Categories),  nature  of, 
381. 

Religion,  as  conceived  by  Hegel,  389  f., 
in  relation  to  philosophy,  392  ff. 

Renan,  E.,  468. 

Renouvier,  C.,  82  n.,  407,  412,  467,  486, 
558. 

Rieber,  C.  E.,  560. 

Ritchie,  D.  G.,  561. 

Ritchie,  E.,  467,  539. 

Robertson,  G.  C.,  62  n.,  491. 


Index 


575 


Rogers,  A.  K.,  560,  563. 

Romantic  School,  The,  543. 

Rosenkranz,  K.,  six,  343,  544  n.,  548, 
549,  565. 

Rousseau,  J.  J .,  197,  506. 

Royce,  J.,  34  n.,  118  n.,  407,  411,  418, 
424,  426  n.,  432,  435  n.,  438  n.,  441, 
442  f.,  444,  44s  f.,  452  f.,  455  n., 
532  n.,  525  n.,  560,  561,  562, 

Russell,  B.,  85,  94,  381  n.,  420  n.,  486, 
523  n.,  525  n. 

Schelling,  Friedrich,  Wilhelm  Joseph, 
System  of,  330-342 : the  universe  as 
unconditional  but  impersonal  self, 
331  ff. ; as  Nature,  336  II.;  as  Identity, 
339  ff.  Life,  331,  540  f.  Bibliography, 
542  f.,  566. 

Schiller,  F.  C.  S.,  221  n.,  227  n.,  360  n., 
412,  414,  431,  444  {.,  517  n.,  559,  558, 
566. 

Schiller,  J.  C.  F.  von,  534  f. 

Scltlegel,  A.  W.  von,  543. 

Schlegel,  K.  W.  F.  von,  543. 

Schleiermacher,  F.  D.  E.,  535. 

Schopenhauer,  Arthur,  System  of,  343- 
3Sg : the  world  as  idea,  344  ff, ; ulti- 
mate reality  as  will,  347  f.,  argued, 
348  f.  (criticized,  349),  as  One,  349  ff . ; 
ethics,  351  ff.,  pessimism  of,  352,  356  f. ; 
estimate  and  criticism  of  doctrine, 
inadequate  conception  of  will,  355  ff. ; 
of  ultimate  reality  as  will,  358  f.  Life, 
343  f-,  552.  Bibliography,  512,  554  f. 

Schubert,  F.  W .,  511. 

Schulze,  G.  E.,  536. 

Science,  distinguished  from  philosophy, 
3 ff. ; as  approach  to  philosophy,  6 f.  ; 
study  of,  undervalued  by  Berkeley, 
147  n. ; influence  upon  Schelling,  337  f. 

Scientists,  as  philosophers,  6 f.,  337, 
399  ff.,  S°8. 

Scott,  W.  R.,  491. 

Scottish  School  of  ‘Common-sense,’ 
The,  494  f. 

Self,  or  Spirit,  Person,  I,  Nature  of, 
407  ff.,  el  al. : conscious,  fundamental 
to  ‘ideas,’  114  ff.,  189,  227  f.,  407; 
inclusive  one,  408,  436 ; unique.  108, 
408,  438;  related,  108,  265,  319  f., 
393;  free:  argued,  446  ff.,  259,  265  f. 
(doctrine  criticized,  451);  active, 
107  f.,  1 16  f.,  408;  limited,  410; 


moral,  236  ff.,  431  f. ; temporal  and 
more-than-temporal,  440  ff.  (its 
temporal  limits  not  precisely  defined, 
409 2) ; immortal,  453  ff . ; as  related 
to  the  Absolute  Self,  435  ff.  et  al., 
451;  known  without  proof,  in  im- 
mediate consciousness,  23,  43,  135, 
173,  226,  246,  333,  347,  409;  (existence 
and  consciousness  of  self  denied  by 
Hume,  179  ff. ; by  contemporary 
phenomenalists,  405  f.).  Subject 

and  object  self,  discussed  by  Kant, 
234  ff.,  244  ff. ; by  Herbart,  245,  by 
Schopenhauer,  346  ff. ; not  a funda- 
mental contrast,  358  f.  Transcen- 
dental and  empirical  self  {see  Kant). 
Other  selves : existence  argued, 

34,  138,  146,  409  f. ; as  objects  of 
obligation,  263,  316;  Kant’s  society 
of  selves,  262  ff.  See  Mind,  Abso- 
lute Self. 

Self-consciousness,  234:  of  God,  prob- 
ably accepted  by  Spinoza,  2go  ff., 
297  f.,  denied  by  Fichte,  325  ff., 
by  Schelling,  333,  340.  See  Con- 
sciousness. 

Selver,  D.,  487. 

Selves,  see  Self. 

Sensational  consciousness,  as  conceived 
by  Wolff,  196;  by  Kant,  205,  243; 
by  Hegel,  398  n. ; as  attributed  to  the 
Absolute  Self,  424  f.  See  External 
Object,  Impressions. 

Sensations,  according  to  Berkeley,  115, 
to  Hume,  131,  to  Kant,  200,  239; 
as  related  to  necessity,  222  f. 

Senses,  fallaciousness  of,  21  f.,  121, 
172  f.,  199. 

Seth,  A.,  494,  348. 

Shaftesbury,  Anthony,  Third  Earl  of, 
302. 

Sigwarl,  H.  C.  W.  von,  491. 

Smith,  A.,  302. 

Smith,  N.,  19  n.,  463. 

Smith,  W.,  538  ff. 

Sorley,  W.  R.,  467. 

Soul,  as  related  to  body : Descartes’s 
doctrine,  41  f. ; Geulinx’s  doctrine, 
71  f. ; Leibniz’s  doctrine,  93  f.  • 
Hume’s  doctrine,  166  f. ; Spinoza’s 
doctrine,  470  f.  See  Mind,  Monad, 
Self,  Mind. 

Space,  Newton’s  definition  of,  203  n.; 


576 


Index 


conceived  as  property  of  body  by 
Hobbes,  60,  66  f.,  69  n. ; Kant’s 
conception  of,  200  £f.,  517  2. 

Spencer,  H.,  monistic  realist,  131,  253, 
383,  401,  557- 

Spinoza,  Baruch  de,  Metaphysical  sys- 
tem of,  277-306 : doctrine  of  one 

substance,  God,  282  2. ; modes,  286  2., 
299  2.  (infinite  modes,  468  f.) ; attri- 
butes, 288  2.,  294  n.,  296,  paral- 
lelism of,  302  2.,  470  f.  (criticism  of 
doctrine,  293  2.,  303  f.).  Psychol- 
ogy and  Epistemology,  469  2. 

Ethics,  478  2.  Life,  278  f.,  464  2. 
Bibliography,  466  2. 

Spirit,  see  Self,  71  n.,  75  n. 

Spiritualism,  or  Personalism,  de- 
fined, 10 ; of  Leibniz,  70  2. ; of 
Berkeley,  no  2.;  of  Kant,  197  2.;  of 
Fichte,  308  2. ; of  Schelling,  330  2. ; 
of  Schopenhauer,  343  2. ; of  He- 
gel, 360  2. ; of  contemporary  phi- 
losophers: pluralistic,  41  x 2.  (theistic 
and  antitheistic,  413  2.),  taught  by 
James,  Schiller,  and  others,  5S7  f. ; 
monistic,  argued,  417  2.,  taught  by 
Lotze,  Royce,  and  others,  560  f. 

Stein,  L.,  467,  484  n. 

Stephen,  L.,  491,  492,  494. 

Stewart,  D.,  495. 

Stirling,  J.  H.,  467,  502,  511,  512,  547. 
548,  551  n.,  561. 

Strong,  C.  A.,  185,  237,  405  n. 

Stuart,  H . W.,  559. 

Slumps,  K.,  5. 

Sturt,  H.,  409  n.,  412,  558. 

Subjectivity,  of  space  and  time,  202  2., 
521  2.;  of  categories,  218  2.,  accord- 
ing to  Kant. 

Substance,  conceived  as  independent, 
by  Descartes,  39  2.,  283  f.,  by  Leib- 
niz, 78  2. ; identified  with  perception 
by  Hume,  180  f. ; conceived  as  One 
by  Spinoza,  282  2.,  as  ‘the  per- 
manent’ by  Kant,  529  f. ; forms: 
spiritual  and  material.  See  Absolute 
Self,  External  Object. 

Succession,  consciousness  of,  442  f. ; 
as  conceived  by  Hobbes,  67 ; accord- 
ing to  Kant,  as  subjective  and  objec- 
tive, 214  f. ; (doctrine  criticized  by 
Schopenhauer,  554). 

Talbot,  E.  £.,  510,  540. 


Taylor,  A.  E.,  51  n.,  113  n.,  215  n., 
222  n.,  295  n.,  374  n.,  410  n.,  438  n., 

561  f. 

Temporal,  use  of  term,  440  f. ; as  at- 
tributed to  the  Absolute  Self,  441  2. ; 
and  eternal,  442  2. 

Tennyson,  quoted,  270. 

Theistic  Moralists,  British,  503. 

Theology,  British  writers  on,  503. 

Thing,  see  External  object  and  Sub- 
stance ; used  by  Berkeley  to  mean 
‘idea,’  123  f. 

Thing-in-itself,  sometimes  identified  by 
Kant  with  free  self,  261 ; conceived 
by  Schopenhauer  as  will,  347  2.  See 
Things-in-themselves,  conceived  by 
Kant  as  unknown,  218,  220,  236  2., 
argued  for,  238  (doctrine  criticized, 
240  f.),  conceived  as  noumena,  254  f. ; 
rejected  by  Fichte,  324  f.,  by  Schel- 
ling, 339,  by  Hegel,  366  f. 

Thompson,  A.  B.,  317  n.,  327  n.,  540. 

Thought,  opposed  to  sense,  by  Wol2, 
196,  by  Kant,  205 ; conceived  as 
attribute  by  Spinoza,  289  2.,  297  f. ; 
Hegel’s  uses  of  term,  388  n. ; attrib- 
uted to  Absolute  Self,  426  f. 

Time,  440  f.,  conceived  by  Hobbes  as 
idea,  68 ; by  Kant  as  necessary  re- 
lation, 212  f.,  217  f.,  522;  as  related 
to  the  Absolute  Self,  441  2. ; plu- 
ralistic conception  of,  445.  Newton’s 
definition  of  absolute  time,  529  n. 
See  Succession. 

Tindal,  M .,  503. 

Toland,  J .,  69  f.,  492,  503. 

Tonnies,  F.,  491. 

Totality,  Category  of,  207  f. 

Trendelenburg,  A.,  468,  487. 

Truth,  as  defined  by  Spinoza,  473;  by 
pragmatists,  559  f. 

Truths,  necessary  and  contingent,  of 
Leibniz,  91,  102  2. 

Turner,  W .,  563. 

Uberweg,  498,  563. 

Unconscious,  The,  as  treated  by  Schel- 
ling, 340,  by  von  Hartmann,  547. 

Unity  of  Apperception,  Kant’s  doctrine 
of,  229  f.,  241  2.,  256  2.  See  Self. 

Universals,  Descartes’s  conception  of, 
41  n. 

Unknown  Reality,  conceived  by  Kant 


Index 


577 


as  thing-in-itself  (or  things-in-them- 
selves),  236  S.,  by  Schelling  as 

Identity,  339  £E.,  by  modern  monistic 
realists,  401  ff. ; doctrine  criticized, 
by  Berkeley,  131  ff.,  by  Hegel,  363  ff. 

Utilitarian  Moralists,  British,  503. 

Vaihinger,  K.,  512,  533  n. 

Vogt,  K.,  133,  398,  556. 

Volition,  429;  as  conceived  by  Hume, 
166  ff. ; correspondence  with  bodily 
movement,  348  f. 

Volkelt,  J.,  555. 

Voltaire,  504  f. 

Voluntarism,  359  n.  See  Will. 

Waitz,  G.,  542. 

Wallace,  W.,  545  ff.,  555,  561. 

Ward,  J.,  402  n.,  407,  491,  557,  566. 

Weber,  A.,  56 3. 


Will,  429  f.;  conceived  by  Fichte  as 
absolute,  316  ff. ; by  Schopenhauer 
as  thing-in-itself,  347  ff.,  as  source  of 
misery,  351  ff. ; of  God,  denied,  by 
Spinoza,  2go,  292 ; attributed  to  the 
Absolute  Self,  429;  identified  with 
self  by  Miinsterberg,  359  n.,  with 
attention  by  Royce,  435  n.  See 
Freedom,  Volition. 

Winckelmann,  337. 

Windelband,  W .,  190  n.,  308  n.,  512, 
563- 

Wolf,  Christian,  System  of,  195  f.,  199, 
219,  23g;  Kant’s  criticism  of,  218  f. ; 
chief  writings,  504. 

Wollaston,  W .,  303. 

W oodbridge,  F.  J.  E.,  491,  557 

Wundt,  W .,  183. 

Zimmer,  F.,  540. 


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